#how to start a project with cloud based

[freebooter4ever]

I googled 'evgeni malkin painting' and the results were all paintings OF evgeni malkin rather than him doing the painting...i probably should have seen that one coming

[classyrbf]

DO I LOOK LIKE HIM! — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...all his life it was just him and his mother, his father nowhere to be seen or found, vanished, a ghost. No one ever spoke a word of him, he didn’t even know his name. But deep down he begs for answers as his mother always said that he looked just like ‘him’

INFO...megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, toji x fem!reader, angst angst angst, megs is 17, absent father, family trauma, young love, arguing, talks of pregnancy, talks of killing/assassination, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

based on: like him by tyler the creator

“Alright move closer into the photo—yep! Perfect!” Your mom held the camera up to her eye, slightly bending down. “Alright, three…two…one!” She snapped the photo, smiling as she looked at you and Toji.

It was Megumi’s first birthday, friends and family surrounding to celebrate. Endless gifts and food, music playing over the speakers. Small children ran around the yard, infectious laughter filling the air. The sun shined brightly, not a cloud in the sky. You were happy. Toji held Megumi tight in arm, looking down at the baby with a full head of jet black hair.

You and Toji had met in high school, falling for each other in an instant. You were captivated by his silent and mysterious presence and Toji was capture by your smile and the way your eyes shined in the light. But neither of you expected to end up with a baby boy just two years later after graduation. Not a single moment was regretted. You wouldn’t trade this for the world.

“Happy birthday, little man,” he scoffed, holding Megumi above his head. He babbled, giggling as he chewed on his chubby fingers, smiling at his father with love in his eyes.

“I can’t wait to frame this one. You guys look so cute.” Your mom pouted, walking back into the house to put the camera away.

A soft smile spread across your face, holding onto Toji’s arm. “Did you ever think you’d become a dad?” You suddenly asked, watching as your baby played with the fabric of his shirt.

Toji turned towards you, a confused look on his face. “No, but…I’m happy I did. You know I’d do anything for you two.” Toji pulled you in by your waist. “Did you ever think you’d become a mom?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand out to move hair out Megumi’s face. “It’s just weird. We were so young, you know? We still are. But, it feels right.” You rested your heard on his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. A small laugh erupted from your chest, “I carry him for nine months and he came out looking exactly like you.”

“What can I say? I got strong genes, baby.” He nudges you slightly, teasing.

“Oh, hush. I did all the work.” You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m only messing with you.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “Go on, give mama a kiss, little man.” He holds Megumi towards you. As if on cue, he leans his head down and places his slobbery mouth on your forehead. “There you go! Good job!” He chuckles, smiling at his son. “I can’t wait until you’re older so I can teach you about all sorts of things.” Megumi grabs ahold of Toji’s finger in his small palm, squeezing it. “Gonna teach you all types of sports, how to fight so you can protect mommy. I bet you’ll be a good baseball player.” Megumi squeals at Toji. “Baseball? Yeah? Alright, baseball it is.” He kisses his cheek.

You stand there, admiring your two favorite boys. It’s like you see the future when you look at them. A happy life, a cozy home. Maybe even a sibling for Megumi. A ring on your finger, happily married. Thinking of the days when Megumi starts going to school and brings back all his little projects so you can put them in a box and keep them for the future. You already had so much planned at such a young age, but you were determined to fight for it. For him. For your son.

Megumi sits on the edge of his bed, deep in thought. The ceiling fan provides a low hum as it spins. He stares at the wilted paper in his hand, a handwritten note to him—one he’s never seen until now. His chest feels tight, tears welling in his eyes as he reads who it’s from over and over again.

—Your Dad

It feels like he can’t breathe, anger swirling through him. He thinks of all those times you dismissed his questions and conversations about his father—whoever his father was. And now, he was holding a note from him that was written fifteen years ago. A note of how sorry he is and nothing else. A man of few words. No explanation, nothing.

Growing up, Megumi learned from a young age that he looked just like ‘him’. His grandmother and grandfather always slipping up, staring at him like a ghost had just walked in the room. It only got worse as he grew older, starting growing into his features. You even began to stare at him, a look of sadness in your eyes. He never would say anything, always keeping his mouth shut like he didn’t notice. Not once, did you ever speak of his father. Hell, he didn’t even know his name or what he looked like, but from what he’s been told, he probably looks like an older version of him.

All those days, watching fathers bond with their sons, his friends dads coming to sports games, school events, he always felt like deep down something was missing. He felt different. Every Father’s Day, being tasked to make something special in school for their fathers, but how is a nine year old supposed to say he doesn’t have one? How is a thirteen year old supposed to participate in the father-son day at school when he doesn’t have one? How is a seventeen year old supposed to feel when he sees everyone posting their dads on social media, a heartfelt message written with each one, yet he doesn’t even have a photograph to remember him by?

Tears fall on the paper and the hurt that he held back is now manifesting. Why was so hard for you to say anything about him? Was he dead? Is that why it was so hard? Yet, there was no excuse. Whatever it was, he needed to know why he left. Why he was so sorry. It wasn’t until he heard the front door open, your calming voice calling out to him.

“Megs, I’m home!” You shut the door, placing your bag on the countertop.

The door to his bedroom swung open, fresh tears still on his cheeks, the wrinkled note gripped in his hand. He stomped towards you. “What is this?” His nostrils flared.

A crease between your brows formed, noticing the distressed look on his face before your eyes landed on what he was holding. You felt your heart drop, your mouth falling open to say something, anything, but nothing came out. “Meg—”

“What is this? Huh?! I found it in the back of your drawer! A note from my dad!” He slammed the paper down. “Who is he?! Why did he leave?!” He was screaming, his anger pouring out through his words. “You never talk about him! No one does!” He throws his hands up. “You kept…you fucking kept this from me! Fifteen years!” Hot tears spill from his eyes.

Your eyes widen, your lip quivering as you hold back tears. “I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks. “I’ve been wanting to tell you—”

“When? When, mom?! I don’t even know his fucking name! I don’t know what he looks like! There’s not a single picture in this house of him? Is he even alive?!” The look in his eyes makes you want to break down. You knew this day would come sooner or later, but you never expected it to turn out this way. The note. Of course it was the note. Almost like it was fate.

You inhaled deeply, licking your lips as tears fall. “I’m sorry, baby. I just…”

“Why can’t you tell me?” He speaks softly, voice wavering. “I see it in your face. Everyday when you look at me…you can see him. Who is my dad?” He clenches his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. “Why did he leave us? Why did he leave me?” He questions before fully breaking down into tears, sobbing.

“No,no,” you whisper, taking him in your arms. His tears soak through the fabric of your shirt, clinging onto you like his life depends on it. “It’s not your fault, baby? You hear me? It’s not his, not yours. It’s complicated.” As you stand there with him in your arms, flashbacks of that night Toji left flood your brain.

“Then where is he? Is he dead?” Megumi asks, raising his head to look at you. The question makes you freeze up, biting on your bottom lip so hard you’re sure to draw blood. “Is he dead, mom?” He stands up straight, wiping his tears.

“I…I don’t know,” you sniffle, shrugging your shoulders. You shake your head as you look at your son, feeling so ashamed and embarrassed. So hurt and disgusted. “He loved you so much, Megumi. I promise you.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? If he loved me, he wouldn’t have left!” He shouted in anger. “Who is he?! Just tell me!” He pleads through his cries.

“His name was Toji. Toji Fushiguro.” You stare at him. “Me and your father met young, back in high school. We had you two years after we graduated. We were so scared. Well, I was scared, but your father was ready. He was so excited,” you chuckle, remembering when you first told him you were pregnant. “He loved you, Megumi. And that’s the exact reason why he left,” you explain.

He shakes his head at you. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your father did everything he could to provide for me and you. You were his everything. His little man. But, he got caught up with the wrong people trying to find ways to make quick money. He was young and desperate, we both were.” Your eyes flutter shut, letting out a sigh. “What your father did for money…you wouldn’t think he was a good man. He made enemies—”

“Mom, what are you saying?! I’m not a kid anymore! Just tell me—”

“He killed people, Megumi! Is that what you wanna hear! He fucking killed people just so he could put food on the table! Fuck!” You hurriedly stand to your feet, looking away from him.

“What…?” He nearly said in a whisper.

“I don’t want you to think he wasn’t a good man, Megs. I don’t want you think he hated you or me. He didn’t. But what he was doing put him and us in danger. He realized that and he left. He couldn’t put us in danger, especially you. That night he left he wrote you this.” You grabbed the note off the counter. “I begged him to stay, baby. I did. I tried. I tried everything.” Megumi sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly ahead of his as he took all this information in. “He never stopped loving you, Megs. He never wanted to leave.”

He slowly turned to look at you, his chest heaving up and down. His eyes were red and glossy from crying. “Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know, baby. He never told me.” You shook your head. He sobbed softly, holding his head in his hands. You walked over, sitting beside him and pulled him into your arms. “Don’t hate him,” you whispered. “He’d be so proud of the man you became. Such a sweet, strong, and smart boy.”

“When did he leave?” Megumi asked.

“A week after your second birthday,” you spoke, biting at the skin on your lip. “He told me you were the best thing to ever happen to him.” You wipe away his tears as they continue to fall. “He’s not a bad guy, he’s just done bad things.”

Now knowing what happened to his father, Megumi felt like his whole world came crashing down. What his father did, who he was. How he came to be. And as much resentment as he holds, he can’t bring himself to hate him. In a way, he understands, but at the same time he doesn’t. He wonders how different things would be if he was here. What life would be Ike. “I’m sorry, mom,” he cried.

“Don’t be, baby. I’m sorry for keeping from you for so long. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to think he was a bad man. I was scared.” You continue to hold him in your arms, consoling him.

“What does he look like?” He asks.

You smile, looking down at him. “You guys are damn near twins.”

Megumi chuckles a little, “I figured.”

“Wait there a moment.” He watches as slip into your bedroom, a few second passing by before you walk out with something in your hands. “Here.”

Megumi looks down, seeing the array of photos you hold on your hands and hesitates on taking them from you. You sit beside him as he grabs them and looks at the first one. “Is that him and you?” He asks, never taking his eyes off the photo.

“Back in high school.” It was one of the first few photos you and Toji ever took together. A picture at the homecoming dance, a plain look on his face while you had a wide smile on your face. “Your father barely ever smiled. But when you came around, he couldn’t stop.”

Megumi was struck. He really did look like him. From the hair, to the eyes, to the nose. Everything. He looked at the next photo. You were pregnant, Toji holding your belly while kissing your cheek. “You guys looked really happy,” he says.

“Of course we were. Me and your dad loved each other very much. I still love him.” Megumi looks over at you as you say those last words. You still hold so much hope and love in your heart and that tells him maybe he should let this resentment for his father go. Maybe it was time to move on.

“Was this my birthday?” He questions, looking at the family photo your mother took of you three that day. He could see a faint smile on his father’s face, looking at the way Toji held him so close in his arms.

“Your very first birthday. So many good memories. Despite the fact you threw up on your dad’s shirt,” you laughed.

“Really?!” Megumi smiles. You nod, still giggling. “Yikes, he must’ve been pissed.”

“At first he was mad, but then saw you started crying after and felt horrible. I remember his exact words, ‘Stop crying, little man. You can throw up on this shirt a thousand times if you want to.’ He could never stay mad at you.” You brush his cheek, watching his smile get wider and wider.

He finally gets to the last picture. One you took of Toji asleep with Megumi on his chest. “I took that picture after it took him three hours to get you to sleep. You didn’t want to sleep in your crib, kept crying and crying and finally your father just fell asleep with you on his chest.” You watch as he runs his thumb over the picture, observing it more than he did the other ones. “You can keep it if you want.”

“Really?” He glanced at you, a desperate look in his eye.

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek. “I have more we can look at later.”

Megumi nods. There’s a moment of silence as he sits and goes through the pictures again, almost like he’s reliving memories he had no recollection of. “So, you really don’t know if he’s alive or not?”

You shake your head. “Like I said, what your father did caused him to get caught up with the wrong people, making enemies out of anyone. He was never scared of them, of course. But he knew if they ever found out about you or me, it wouldn’t end well.,” you explained. “I wish I knew.”

“Is it weird that I miss him?” He turned towards you, confused. “How can I miss someone I don’t even remember?” His eyes became teary.

“Oh, Megs.” You wiped his tears. “It’s not weird at all, sweetheart. I’m sure he misses you too. A whole lot.” You give him a sad smile.

He sniffles, looking down at the pictures. It was like he finally felt this weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. After years of this gut wrenching feeling, he finally knows the truth. His father did love you. Love him. He no longer felt casted aside. And that feeling gave him hope that maybe he’s still out there, still alive.

[treasure-mimic]

So, let me try and put everything together here, because I really do think it needs to be talked about.

Today, Unity announced that it intends to apply a fee to use its software. Then it got worse.

For those not in the know, Unity is the most popular free to use video game development tool, offering a basic version for individuals who want to learn how to create games or create independently alongside paid versions for corporations or people who want more features. It's decent enough at this job, has issues but for the price point I can't complain, and is the idea entry point into creating in this medium, it's a very important piece of software.

But speaking of tools, the CEO is a massive one. When he was the COO of EA, he advocated for using, what out and out sounds like emotional manipulation to coerce players into microtransactions.

"A consumer gets engaged in a property, they might spend 10, 20, 30, 50 hours on the game and then when they're deep into the game they're well invested in it. We're not gouging, but we're charging and at that point in time the commitment can be pretty high."

He also called game developers who don't discuss monetization early in the planning stages of development, quote, "fucking idiots".

So that sets the stage for what might be one of the most bald-faced greediest moves I've seen from a corporation in a minute. Most at least have the sense of self-preservation to hide it.

A few hours ago, Unity posted this announcement on the official blog.

Effective January 1, 2024, we will introduce a new Unity Runtime Fee that’s based on game installs. We will also add cloud-based asset storage, Unity DevOps tools, and AI at runtime at no extra cost to Unity subscription plans this November. We are introducing a Unity Runtime Fee that is based upon each time a qualifying game is downloaded by an end user. We chose this because each time a game is downloaded, the Unity Runtime is also installed. Also we believe that an initial install-based fee allows creators to keep the ongoing financial gains from player engagement, unlike a revenue share.

Now there are a few red flags to note in this pitch immediately.

Unity is planning on charging a fee on all games which use its engine.

This is a flat fee per number of installs.

They are using an always online runtime function to determine whether a game is downloaded.

There is just so many things wrong with this that it's hard to know where to start, not helped by this FAQ which doubled down on a lot of the major issues people had.

I guess let's start with what people noticed first. Because it's using a system baked into the software itself, Unity would not be differentiating between a "purchase" and a "download". If someone uninstalls and reinstalls a game, that's two downloads. If someone gets a new computer or a new console and downloads a game already purchased from their account, that's two download. If someone pirates the game, the studio will be asked to pay for that download.

Q: How are you going to collect installs? A: We leverage our own proprietary data model. We believe it gives an accurate determination of the number of times the runtime is distributed for a given project. Q: Is software made in unity going to be calling home to unity whenever it's ran, even for enterprice licenses? A: We use a composite model for counting runtime installs that collects data from numerous sources. The Unity Runtime Fee will use data in compliance with GDPR and CCPA. The data being requested is aggregated and is being used for billing purposes. Q: If a user reinstalls/redownloads a game / changes their hardware, will that count as multiple installs? A: Yes. The creator will need to pay for all future installs. The reason is that Unity doesn’t receive end-player information, just aggregate data. Q: What's going to stop us being charged for pirated copies of our games? A: We do already have fraud detection practices in our Ads technology which is solving a similar problem, so we will leverage that know-how as a starting point. We recognize that users will have concerns about this and we will make available a process for them to submit their concerns to our fraud compliance team.

This is potentially related to a new system that will require Unity Personal developers to go online at least once every three days.

Starting in November, Unity Personal users will get a new sign-in and online user experience. Users will need to be signed into the Hub with their Unity ID and connect to the internet to use Unity. If the internet connection is lost, users can continue using Unity for up to 3 days while offline. More details to come, when this change takes effect.

It's unclear whether this requirement will be attached to any and all Unity games, though it would explain how they're theoretically able to track "the number of installs", and why the methodology for tracking these installs is so shit, as we'll discuss later.

Unity claims that it will only leverage this fee to games which surpass a certain threshold of downloads and yearly revenue.

Only games that meet the following thresholds qualify for the Unity Runtime Fee: Unity Personal and Unity Plus: Those that have made $200,000 USD or more in the last 12 months AND have at least 200,000 lifetime game installs. Unity Pro and Unity Enterprise: Those that have made $1,000,000 USD or more in the last 12 months AND have at least 1,000,000 lifetime game installs.

They don't say how they're going to collect information on a game's revenue, likely this is just to say that they're only interested in squeezing larger products (games like Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail, Fate Grand Order, Among Us, and Fall Guys) and not every 2 dollar puzzle platformer that drops on Steam. But also, these larger products have the easiest time porting off of Unity and the most incentives to, meaning realistically those heaviest impacted are going to be the ones who just barely meet this threshold, most of them indie developers.

Aggro Crab Games, one of the first to properly break this story, points out that systems like the Xbox Game Pass, which is already pretty predatory towards smaller developers, will quickly inflate their "lifetime game installs" meaning even skimming the threshold of that 200k revenue, will be asked to pay a fee per install, not a percentage on said revenue.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Hey Gamers!

Today, Unity (the engine we use to make our games) announced that they'll soon be taking a fee from developers for every copy of the game installed over a certain threshold - regardless of how that copy was obtained.

Guess who has a somewhat highly anticipated game coming to Xbox Game Pass in 2024? That's right, it's us and a lot of other developers.

That means Another Crab's Treasure will be free to install for the 25 million Game Pass subscribers. If a fraction of those users download our game, Unity could take a fee that puts an enormous dent in our income and threatens the sustainability of our business.

And that's before we even think about sales on other platforms, or pirated installs of our game, or even multiple installs by the same user!!!

This decision puts us and countless other studios in a position where we might not be able to justify using Unity for our future titles. If these changes aren't rolled back, we'll be heavily considering abandoning our wealth of Unity expertise we've accumulated over the years and starting from scratch in a new engine. Which is really something we'd rather not do.

On behalf of the dev community, we're calling on Unity to reverse the latest in a string of shortsighted decisions that seem to prioritize shareholders over their product's actual users.

I fucking hate it here.

-Aggro Crab - END DESCRIPTION]

That fee, by the way, is a flat fee. Not a percentage, not a royalty. This means that any games made in Unity expecting any kind of success are heavily incentivized to cost as much as possible.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A table listing the various fees by number of Installs over the Install Threshold vs. version of Unity used, ranging from $0.01 to $0.20 per install. END DESCRIPTION]

Basic elementary school math tells us that if a game comes out for $1.99, they will be paying, at maximum, 10% of their revenue to Unity, whereas jacking the price up to $59.99 lowers that percentage to something closer to 0.3%. Obviously any company, especially any company in financial desperation, which a sudden anchor on all your revenue is going to create, is going to choose the latter.

Furthermore, and following the trend of "fuck anyone who doesn't ask for money", Unity helpfully defines what an install is on their main site.

While I'm looking at this page as it exists now, it currently says

The installation and initialization of a game or app on an end user’s device as well as distribution via streaming is considered an “install.” Games or apps with substantially similar content may be counted as one project, with installs then aggregated to calculate the Unity Runtime Fee.

However, I saw a screenshot saying something different, and utilizing the Wayback Machine we can see that this phrasing was changed at some point in the few hours since this announcement went up. Instead, it reads:

The installation and initialization of a game or app on an end user’s device as well as distribution via streaming or web browser is considered an “install.” Games or apps with substantially similar content may be counted as one project, with installs then aggregated to calculate the Unity Runtime Fee.

Screenshot for posterity:

That would mean web browser games made in Unity would count towards this install threshold. You could legitimately drive the count up simply by continuously refreshing the page. The FAQ, again, doubles down.

Q: Does this affect WebGL and streamed games? A: Games on all platforms are eligible for the fee but will only incur costs if both the install and revenue thresholds are crossed. Installs - which involves initialization of the runtime on a client device - are counted on all platforms the same way (WebGL and streaming included).

And, what I personally consider to be the most suspect claim in this entire debacle, they claim that "lifetime installs" includes installs prior to this change going into effect.

Will this fee apply to games using Unity Runtime that are already on the market on January 1, 2024? Yes, the fee applies to eligible games currently in market that continue to distribute the runtime. We look at a game's lifetime installs to determine eligibility for the runtime fee. Then we bill the runtime fee based on all new installs that occur after January 1, 2024.

Again, again, doubled down in the FAQ.

Q: Are these fees going to apply to games which have been out for years already? If you met the threshold 2 years ago, you'll start owing for any installs monthly from January, no? (in theory). It says they'll use previous installs to determine threshold eligibility & then you'll start owing them for the new ones. A: Yes, assuming the game is eligible and distributing the Unity Runtime then runtime fees will apply. We look at a game's lifetime installs to determine eligibility for the runtime fee. Then we bill the runtime fee based on all new installs that occur after January 1, 2024.

That would involve billing companies for using their software before telling them of the existence of a bill. Holding their actions to a contract that they performed before the contract existed!

Okay. I think that's everything. So far.

There is one thing that I want to mention before ending this post, unfortunately it's a little conspiratorial, but it's so hard to believe that anyone genuinely thought this was a good idea that it's stuck in my brain as a significant possibility.

A few days ago it was reported that Unity's CEO sold 2,000 shares of his own company.

On September 6, 2023, John Riccitiello, President and CEO of Unity Software Inc (NYSE:U), sold 2,000 shares of the company. This move is part of a larger trend for the insider, who over the past year has sold a total of 50,610 shares and purchased none.

I would not be surprised if this decision gets reversed tomorrow, that it was literally only made for the CEO to short his own goddamn company, because I would sooner believe that this whole thing is some idiotic attempt at committing fraud than a real monetization strategy, even knowing how unfathomably greedy these people can be.

So, with all that said, what do we do now?

Well, in all likelihood you won't need to do anything. As I said, some of the biggest names in the industry would be directly affected by this change, and you can bet your bottom dollar that they're not just going to take it lying down. After all, the only way to stop a greedy CEO is with a greedier CEO, right?

(I fucking hate it here.)

And that's not mentioning the indie devs who are already talking about abandoning the engine.

[Links display tweets from the lead developer of Among Us saying it'd be less costly to hire people to move the game off of Unity and Cult of the Lamb's official twitter saying the game won't be available after January 1st in response to the news.]

That being said, I'm still shaken by all this. The fact that Unity is openly willing to go back and punish its developers for ever having used the engine in the past makes me question my relationship to it.

The news has given rise to the visibility of free, open source alternative Godot, which, if you're interested, is likely a better option than Unity at this point. Mostly, though, I just hope we can get out of this whole, fucking, environment where creatives are treated as an endless mill of free profits that's going to be continuously ratcheted up and up to drive unsustainable infinite corporate growth that our entire economy is based on for some fuckin reason.

Anyways, that's that, I find having these big posts that break everything down to be helpful.

[diminuel]

I said I'd try to write a little companion piece/ continuation to my Luffy time traveling into the past to meet a young Crocodile comic!

As a warning: I know nothing about ships and since this is just a little no pressure project to try to get out of writer's block I didn’t do a lot of research. There is also a plot discrepancy because Luffy mentions Bonney and her abilities which he shouldn’t know based on the frame story I’ve given this fic *lol* Also: I don't know how to write these characters yet.

No beta, sorry for mistakes.

This is a Crocodad AU fic of course! ♥

--

Maybe This Time Part 1 (3.5k)

“Better get down from there, Luffy!” Nami called from the upper deck. “I don’t quite trust these clouds.” Luffy turned to look over his shoulder, feet dangling over the railing. Nami stood with a hand over her brow, looking up at the sky. Luffy turned back to look out at the sea and tilted his head up. The sky had a pretty green hue, nearly blending seamlessly into a dark mist rising above them. A huge dark cloud had formed ahead, casting a shadow over the sea in the distance.

“Just-“

He titled forward, lost his grip on the railing. A swooping feeling of falling tickled his stomach but before he could make a surprised sound he hit the surface of the water. It felt like he was crashing through glass.

And then it was dark.

This wasn’t the first time Luffy woke up after having been tossed into the water, but for some reason he was bone dry. And oddly thirsty.

“Thirsty,” he wheezed, sticking out his tongue to escape the uncomfortable dryness of his mouth.

A small barrel with a straw was held out to him with a curt “here.” Luffy’s attention zeroed in on the offering and he grabbed it without second-thought. A couple of deep gulps of the water later he felt a lot better already. He heaved a sigh in relief. He took the straw into his mouth again, starting a thank you as he turned towards his savior.

Startled, he sucked in water and spit it out again before he could choke on it, right into the face of someone who looked shockingly familiar.

“BABA?!” Luffy yelled. The person in front of stared at him blanky, the water dripping off his face.

Luffy stared right back. Could it be? This wasn’t Baba as he knew him, but much younger. Sure, they hadn’t seen each other in a couple of months, but he couldn’t change that much, right? But who else could it be? The same hair, the same eyes, the same scar, the same unimpressed expression.

A thousand questions rampaged through Luffy’s minds. How was Baba here? Last they had talked he had been still on Buggy’s homebase. Had he saved him? Where was his crew? What kind of island was this? But one question seemed most important.

“Why are you so young?!” Luffy asked, staring at Baba who couldn’t be much older than Luffy was now.

“Huh?”

“Was it Bonney?” The confusion on Baba’s face only grew.

“Who?” he asked. Luffy stared back at him taking in the complete lack of recognition on Baba’s face.

What?

“Don’t you recognize me, Baba?!” Luffy shouted in horror. The corners of Baba’s mouth twitched and his brows drew down. At least that was a marginally more familiar expression on his face.

“My name isn’t Baba,” he insisted. “And no. Should I?” That hit Luffy like Grandpa’s fist of love.

“Yes!!” Luffy argued, feeling overwhelmed and his crew wasn’t even here to help figure this out. Robin or Jinbei would know what to do! Luffy looked at the sea. It was overcast, the sun faint, the air cool. It was most likely early morning. There wasn’t a single ship visible in the bay or beyond. No other people on this beach. He could feel tears form in his eyes.

“What is going on?” he yelled.

--

There were rules for unexpected situations that had been drilled into his head at an early age. Get yourself out of any immediate danger. Figure out where your people are and regroup. Figure out where you are. Eat. Everything else can wait until after you’ve eaten.

Maybe the importance placed on food was just the Monkey family’s way of dealing with problems, but Luffy wasn’t about to complain. The perfectly grilled meat and the little stick that was loaded with huge mushrooms helped to dampen the anxious pit in his stomach. But the moment he looked up and caught a glimpse of the person sitting across from him, tearing the meat straight off the bone in an unsettling lack of finesse, he felt like he was being dunked into sea water again.

Just what was going on here? Luffy had been travelling with his crew, enjoying that exhilarating part of adventuring where you were simply sailing, facing the challenges the sea of the New World threw at you, not yet knowing where the path would take you. And then the next thing he knew he was plunged into water, sank, blacked out.

Nothing after made any sense. Because the person that had saved him…

“You’re staring.” Luffy startled at the unsettlingly unfamiliar voice. He watched the person opposite him pick his teeth. “Do I really look like that Baba person?” Maybe a smart man would keep his mouth shut and Luffy had been raised to have at least a pinch of common sense between his ears but…

Just what was he supposed to do when a young version of his father was sitting opposite him?!

“You do,” he settled on saying, wary. Baba didn’t look particularly upset by his lack of an explanation, not even a hint of annoyance pinching his brow. And that was unusual too.

What was this? A hallucination? Someone’s devil fruit power? Actual time travel?

(And why not into the future so Luffy could at least see cool robots shooting lasers?)

“What did you say your name was?” Baba asked, genuinely curious, then he pointed at the food in Luffy’s hands. “More where that came from,” he promised. “Eat.” And wasn’t that just another strange thing? Why was he so nice to him if he didn’t even know who Luffy was? Luffy stuffed the food in his mouth, chewing morosely.

“Monkey D. Luffy. I’m going to be the pirate king,” he announced, though far more subdued than he usually was when introducing himself. Baba’s eyebrow lifted.

“There’s no such thing as a king of pirates,” he said, chuckling to himself. “Isn’t that the whole point? The freedom?” Luffy swallowed his food, tilting his head in confusion. Baba put his elbow on his knee, and propped his chin in his palm. He grinned at Luffy, the expression open and joyful, almost mischievous. “That’s why I set sail. I want to do things for myself, see what I can achieve on the Grandline!” His grin softened to an expression a lot more familiar to Luffy though he couldn’t exactly place it. “A big adventure before…,” he trailed off and sat up straight, still grinning but not sharing his thoughts.

It was strange to hear Baba talk of freedom and piracy like that. While Baba had given Ace, Sabo and him a lot of practical information on what to expect out of piracy, he almost never talked about how it used to be for him when he just starting out. Luffy didn’t know when he became a pirate, what motivated him or why he gave up that freedom for a warlord position.

He just knew that nowadays everything, even freedom, was shackled by conditions upon conditions. A thousand locks for Baba and Dad to pick before it could be achieved. Luffy had never quite understood it. Freedom was so easy to achieve if you just pushed your boat off the shore.

Maybe this Baba still trusted that freedom was always within reach.

“How old are you?” Luffy blurted out, putting aside the unease about the situation to admit a little bit of curiosity. Even if it was a hallucination or the work of a very capable impostor, he wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know everything about him.

“19,” Baba answered. “And you?”

“Uh, me too,” Luffy said, then lifted his fingers. “46 minus 19.”

“27,” Baba answered right away, chewing on a mushroom. It seems Baba hadn’t yet discovered the “don’t talk with your mouth full” rule.

“27 years?” Luffy repeated in dawning horror, touching his palms to his cheeks. “I’m 27 years in the past?!” He whined and let himself drop onto his back. He stared up at the overcast sky, partially visible through the sparse trees here so close to the shore. How was that possible?! Did they sail into some sort of mystical area of the Grandline and were now all scattered across time? Was that even possible?

Baba’s face appeared in his field of vision, blocking out the sky.

“What are you talking about?” he wanted to know, his hands in his hips as he bent down to study Luffy. “You can’t seriously believe that you’re from the future.”

“But I am!” Luffy insisted and jumped to his feet. Luckily Baba straightened quickly enough to not be hit by Luffy’s head. He grimaced, momentarily distracted by the fact that even now his father was nearly a head taller than him. He shrugged it off. “I know that there is no known devil fruit that will grant the user the ability to go back in time. But there has got to be an explanation for this!”

“Other than you being insane?” Baba offered but judged by his tone and the grin stretching his lips he was teasing, not mocking. Luffy groaned, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You do realize that what you’re saying is improbable.”

“But it’s still true!” Baba didn’t react to his outburst. “I’ve seen a lot of so-called improbable things before! Islands with dinosaurs! Islands that fly in the sky! Islands where people turned into living toys!” Baba lifted his eyebrows at that. Luffy waved him off. “It was just Mingo, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying about it,” Baba answered, amusement evident. “But it seems like you’ve already travelled a bit. I thought you were new to the Grandline. You look like a rookie.”

“I’m not!” Luffy protested then pointed his thumb at his chest. “I’ve been on the Grandline for 2 years! I’ve got an amazing ship and the best crew in the world!” At the mention of his crew his spirits sunk like an anchor. He hoped they were okay…!

“Where were you when you got separated from your crew? You can’t have been washed ashore from that far away,” Baba asked. Luffy hummed, trying to remember. He scratched his head.

“We’d been on sea for about three weeks after Wano,” he said. “But we hadn’t come into stable climate yet, so I don’t think we were close to an island.”

“Wano,” Baba repeated. “You were in the New World?” He seemed surprised now. Was he doubting him again?

“You’re in the New World too,” Luffy shot back.

“No! We’re on Agaricus,” Baba insisted. Luffy squinted at him. Where had he heard that name before? He was sure he had heard Baba mention it. “The next big island you might have heard of is Alabasta.” Luffy hit his balled fist into his palm in recognition.

“The autumn island where you like to go mushroom hunting!” he said then the words registered. “What?! We’re in the first half of the Grandline?!” Baba looked about as shocked as Luffy felt.

“How do you know that?” he asked and it took a moment for Luffy to realize that he looked wary all of a sudden, his stance a lot less relaxed. Luffy knew that he should be able to defend himself against a 19-year-old version of his father, but he still didn’t want to test that hypothesis if Baba actually started to believe that Luffy was a threat.

“I told you! I’m from the future! I know you!” Luffy defended himself. Baba frowned at him, but his stance shifted just a bit. A soft sound at Luffy’s feet made him look down just to see tendrils of sand slip back down on the floor. He hadn’t even realized that Baba must have manipulated the sand to grab him if needed. When Luffy looked up Baba’s expression was serious, a crease between his eyebrows.

“27 years into the future,” Baba affirmed. “When you and your crew sailed the New World. As apparently I do too.” He rubbed his arms, his face uncertain for the first time. “I’m still alive in 27 years?”

“Obviously!” Luffy insisted, angry at the suggestion that Baba would not make it on the Grandline. “You’re strong!” A small grin appeared on Baba’s face.

“Yeah? So how do we know each other? Am I your captain or something?” Luffy wrinkled his nose but at the same time Baba did too. “Do I insist on everybody calling me Baba like fucking Whitebeard wants everyone to call him Pops?” Baba made a disgusted expression at that. Luffy of course knew that Baba and Whitebeard had history, but as most things of his father’s past, this was something he kept close to his chest. Sometimes his secrecy was quite annoying and it was hard to pretend not to care about what had happened, especially since the old man had meant so much to Ace.

“How can you already have a grudge against Whitebeard at 19?”

“Oh, so you don’t know everything, Monkey D. Luffy,” Baba said, his grim look dropping quickly at the supposed upper hand he fancied himself to have. Luffy wasn’t used to these quick mood changes. Still, instead of answering he grimaced. “What?”

“I don’t like when you call me by my full name. You only do that when you’re scolding me. Call me Luffy or Strawhat.”

“Strawhat?” Baba asked, laughing. Luffy pulled his hat from his back and put it onto his head demonstratively. “And you let me scold you? What am I? Your mom?” Luffy pressed his lips together, the question feeling like someone had upended a bucket of cold water onto his head. But Baba laughed in amusement as if the thought was absurd. “Am I your captain?”

For the first time a different kind of worry made a home in Luffy’s mind. He had arguably no experience in time traveling but he wondered if it was a good idea to let his father know too much. Could Luffy change the past just by being here? Could he change his own present if he messed up here?

Luffy knew that he was a “happy accident.” What if he told Baba who he was and Baba decided to be a bit more careful so that no happy accidents happened accidentally? That’d be horrible! Would Luffy just disappear?! Maybe this was the true danger of this situation!

“You’re not my captain! I’m the captain of my ship!” Luffy insisted, pride in his position winning out over the moment of panic.

“Then what’s our connection?” Crocodile asked and took a step closer to Luffy, a glint in his eyes that Luffy didn’t quite like. He didn’t have a sharp hook to hold under his nose but he had a sharp and menacing grin. “Spit it out, Strawhat.”

“I… I don’t know anything!” Luffy said through pursed lips, looking away. But other than grab him and shake him or worse (as Luffy had seen Baba do to people who annoyed him or lied to him) Baba just blinked at him. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

“I know someone who’s just as horrible as you are at lying!” he said. Luffy wrinkled his nose. Not everyone could lie professionally. “But why don’t you want to tell me?”

“Because I am from the future!” Luffy insisted. “What if I say something that changes something big?! I don’t want that! I like my life! Maybe if someone sent me into this past, this is their objective?! What if they’re trying to kill me by letting me make a mistake here in the past that leads to me not being born?!”

“That seems far too much effort,” Baba said, looking Luffy up and down. “You don’t look particularly strong, Strawhat,” he said his tone annoyingly patronizing. “A stray bullet could kill you.”

“What?! I am strong! And my bounty is higher than yours!” he protested. Luffy would never have said that to his Baba’s face but this young version of him was different. “And I’m not going to tell you what it is!” Baba rolled his eyes.

“At least tell me I didn’t choose something as stupid as Baba as my name,” he said, then he moved his hand and a wave of sand spread over the fire they had roasted their food on, dousing it at once.

“I’ve always done my best to fly under the marine’s radar and it’s hard to break the habit. I haven’t really gotten my name out there yet,” Baba continued. He pointed at Luffy. “But I will! The world will soon hear of the exploits of Crocodile!” Luffy stared at him, taking in his wide, confident grin.

Baba looked impossibly young.

“Yes,” Luffy agreed, not sure why there was a lump in his throat. Baba smiled at him, then he reached out to pat Luffy’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” Baba turned around and started packing up the rest of the cooked meat and mushrooms. He tossed Luffy a bag, then shouldered his own. When he walked away from the camp, Luffy trailed after him.

“Where are we going?” he asked. They stepped out of the outskirts of the forest and back onto the beach. There was a small ship docking on a pier that Luffy hadn’t noticed back when he had first woken up. It wasn’t much bigger than the one Luffy had initially set out on. Far too small for a crew of more than two. Not a vessel that looked suited for the Grandline.

“You’re looking for your crew, right? And a way to get back home, wherever and whenever that might be,” Baba said and then thrust his thumb behind him, towards the ship. “So what do you say, Strawhat Luffy? Want to join me?” Luffy looked at him in surprise. Baba wasn’t exactly the kind of person to make such generous offers to strangers, at least he wasn’t today.

“Fine. But I’m captain!” Luffy said and extended his arm to grab onto the ship’s mast. He pulled himself onto the ship, Baba staring after him. Luffy sat himself down at the helm of the ship. Baba cursed to himself, then undid the rope and gave his ship a powerful shove with his foot. He turned into sand and landed on the ship next to Luffy.

“No way! This is my ship!” Luffy looked up the mast, noticing the lack of a pirate flag.

“Baba-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Crocodile, you don’t even have a pirate flag!” he said disapprovingly and for the first time Baba actually seemed embarrassed. “Does your ship have name at least?”

“Yeah, it’s the Mind Your Own Business Strawhat!” Crocodile went down into the cabin and then came back with an eternal pose. Luffy couldn’t read the name written on it. Crocodile walked to the steering wheel and then looked up at the sail. Luffy watched as sand spread from Crocodile’s body until the sails were lifted and caught the wind.

“Where are we going?” Luffy asked, inspecting the stemhead but it didn’t seem particularly comfortable to sit on. Crocodile’s ship didn’t even have a figurehead! Maybe he had a banana in his galley so Luffy could put it on the stemhead. The "Mind your Own Business Strawhat" needed least some decoration. Momentarily caught up in his musings, it took him a moment to turn back around to look up at Crocodile behind the wheel. It was strange seeing him there. He had only sailed with Crocodile on the same ship once, leaving Impel Down. He didn’t know why it seemed so strange to see him man a ship himself. He knew that his father was a pirate and yet it seemed odd to realize what that actually meant. That he hadn’t always been a warlord who tended to stay in one place or travel on marine vessels, that he hadn’t always had 2000 people under his command, that he hadn’t always been an emperor’s commander. But he looked comfortable behind the wheel, like he had never done anything else.

“Do you want to go all the way to Wano?” Luffy eventually asked and jumped up to where Crocodile was. “What about your own adventure? Don’t you want to follow the log poses and do your route around the Grandline?”

“I don’t mind making a detour,” he easily said as if it wasn’t difficult at all for him to give up his plans. “And absolutely not, I’m not going to sail into the blue like that just based on your last location in allegedly 27 years from now” Crocodile said with a scoff. “We need information.” He smiled down at the log pose. “And I might have an idea where we could get it.”

To be continued? If you find it too hard to read on here I can post it on AO3.

[bonefall]

BONES WHERE ARE YOU

I'm here I'm okay! Sorry I went radio silent for like two months LMAO I've been a busy boygirl.

I have been doing A LOT of things. The embarrassing truth is that I noticed I was going a while without posting, figured I'd stay quiet a little longer so I'd have fun stuff to share to "make up" for the fact I was quiet, but then things got delayed and I felt guilty I had nothing to show for being gone so long, and before I knew it it was like 2 months. Girl help

I've always got a ridiculous amount of irons in the fire, but mainly 3 big things have been keeping me quiet;

Thing 1 is, unfortunatly, a super secret, non-WC related game project. You have NO idea how badly I want to blabber about this, but my team asked me not to :///

It's so fucking cool and I've been working so hard on it. I have been able to research so many cool environments and cultures. OHH my god, did you have any idea that Iran has cloud forests?? Or that you can trace Mayan trade routes based on the color of obsidian you find in archeological sites??? I want to spill beans so bad.

Hopefully we'll make more progress on this project in a few months and then I can share details, but at the moment I'm honor-bound to silence OTL

THING 2 I've been doing is graduating college and finding a good job, which naturally is time consuming. I finally did though, so hopefully I'll have some cash to burn soon on commissions and such. I actually have a couple Clan Culture posts essentially completed as drafts, but I want them illustrated before releasing them.

Aaaand THING 3 is that I started playing the demo for an Indie game called Critter Cove. I apologize that this reason's kind of mundane, but it is only a demo for what the devs call "the first 2 hours of the game" and I've already got 40 hours logged.

It's a good game, man. I'm obsessed with the character creator. It's got fat bodies, squid-faced options, hyena ears, lots of tails, even TVhead options, everything. The devs are also super responsive on the Discord. I have made so many fun designs lmaooo.

It releases into Early Access on the 10th and you save your progress into the main game. It's like Animal Crossing meets Windwaker. Can't recommend it enough if you're into these sorts of games.

TL;DR I've been up to non-WC things.

Doesn't mean I'm gone though! I'll be back soon. As soon as I have some time, I'm going to catch up on the Ivypool's Heart stuff so I can formulate an opinion about it.

[jube-art]

Would you...make more...JJ art? 🥺👉👈

sure! lmao :) a fic snippet under the cut!

Cassie breathes out, the fire inside of her makes it cloud up in the cold mountain air. She grounds herself, trying to think back on all that her Aunty Diana taught her, about containing her anger, about keeping things manageable and not lashing out at the people around her.

It’s not Cassies fault that anger runs in her family.

Deemed just a bit too ‘rough’ for the regular teen titans, she’s been given an address to go to for a team meet-up that would “fit her deposition” better.

(That the teen titans wouldn’t have a name attached too.)

It’s an old Justice League base, up here in upstate New York just outside of the Catskills and she’s just a little early. Not terribly early she doesn’t think, just about fifteen minutes from the official meeting time.

She knocks on the disguised door, the official teen titans stationary in her hands tell her exactly how to knock and where.

Sure enough, the rock wall opens up, creaking with disuse, yawning a gaping doorway into darkness.

“This is a bad idea.” She tells herself, the words make more of that cloudy air puff around her, but she moves forward into the dark anyway.

The first thing she sees is Nightwing.

Robin is here too, helping him with something just out of sight.

Involuntarily she relaxes a bit. Nobody doesn’t know who Nightwing is, he was the one who handed her the little piece of paper in the first place, telling her to come here. “Hello?”

“Oh!” Nightwing turns, shoving what he was working on down underneath the table. Robin keeps working. “Wondergirl! You’re a little early! Hello!”

Oh god. Did Cassie mess up? Should she have arrived on time? Damn it, mom, she should have left when she wanted to-!

“Welcome!” Nightwing instantly is all charming smiles and a brilliantly handsome face. He moves forward, leaving Robin to continue what he was doing. “I’m glad you decided to take a chance on this little project we wanted to start up.”

Cassie really didn’t have much of a choice did she? It was either this last ditch sort of reject project that she had no information on or it was ‘don’t be a hero’

“We’re just waiting on the other three to be ready.” Nightwing is still talking, still with that relaxed tone and smile. “They should be getting here soon. Do you want some water? We have cookies too-“

Robin jerks back. “Don’t bite me you little shit!”

Nightwing’s smile freezes on his face, awkward. “Ignore him. He’s getting one of the participants on board for this little subgroup.”

Cassie regrets everything. She’s gonna be working with somebody who bites? Who bites like a fucking child? Who is feral?!

Cassie’s all for fighting, all for war, but she’s also all for strategy, it’s in her blood. It’s apart of her power. She can’t deal with anything that’s little more than a feral beast-

Robin yanks around, bringing with him-

The boy is Cassie’s age. Black hair, a black mask over his eyes that can be nothing but one of Batman’s sort. He’s got a thick heavy and large cape on, black, going down to his ankles, pushing away from Robin with a sneer.

He’s sort of cute.

Pale face filled with freckles, thin and gaunt, a little taller than most boys Cassie’s age.

Is this- is this the new Robin?!

Cassie’s expectations of the group go way up.

“Hello?” Another voice comes from behind Cassie, causing her to turn and-

Oh my gods!

That’s! That’s Lex Luthor’s son! Dressed sharp in a form fitting leather jacket with skinny jeans and his signature thick sunglasses.

He’s got powers?!

“Ah! Superboy, so glad to see you-“

“I would rather not be called that.” The boy cuts off Nightwing, a sour expression on his face. “I would rather not be associated with that parent.”

Cassie’s mind is getting blown right now. What. What is going on?! Who is on this team?!

“Of course. I understand completely.” Nightwing’s still speaking for the bats. It looks like the older, still in the traditional uniform Robin is maneuvering the new guy to be front and center. “We’ll make a note of that going forward. Is there anything specific that you’d like to be called for now?”

The boy- superman’s son?!- just sort of looks sad now. Now that it’s been brought to attention, Cassie can’t see anybody but a younger version of Superman looking up from a punk’s face. “If I get one, I’ll let you know.”

The older Robin taps out some kind of pattern on Nightwing’s shoulder, and Nightwing taps one backwards onto Robin’s arm. They understand each other perfectly, as the older, traditional Robin goes ahead and leaves, headed to a side room with the label above it ‘Zeta’.

The new, strange, Robin (because who else is this?) sticks himself into Nightwing’s side.

The Superman … child (how?!) cocks his head at the behavior, the new Robin and him get into a weird stand off, eyes wide and unblinking. Creepy.

“Now we only have one more to wait on.” Nightwing tells the group at large. “Then after introductions we’ll discuss sort of what we have in mind for this group moving forward, and training both physically and mentally to help with both working as a team and working on handling what it takes to be a-

The concussive boom from outside makes Cassie’s ears pop. She winces at the sound, so does the kid of Superman

The bat’s both flinch, full body, jerking away physically from the noise.

The little new Robin way, way worse than Nightwing. Clinging onto Nightwing physically, off the ground and like a koala.

“That’s gonna be Impulse.” Nightwing sighs. “I thought Flash told me that they had stopped breaking the sound barrier-“

He sort of mumbles off, and the group waits a few beats in strange silence. When nothing happens for a bit, Nightwing actually reaches over to the command console and presses a button. “You have to go normal human speed, little dude.”

The group at large waits another second-

Like a flash, sure enough there’s two little wisps of a human being, one with red hair, one with blond. The two of them are wearing the same outfit, white and red, and are vibrating so hard that they are hard to get the details of.

Cassie can only see the chain that connects their wrists, tugging towards one or the other with every twitch.

It hits Cassie then, just how wild this is.

In the room right now is some powerful players, more powerful than Cassie was originally expecting when the teen titans had told her that with her … anger issues she might not be a good fit for the Titans name. Cassie expected to be thrown to the side, mad as hell, not put on a team that consisted of only power players. Batman, Superman, Flash, Wonder Woman, you couldn’t get bigger names.

And here they all sit, in some run down old base cave in New York, waiting to be told that they’re going to finally be a team.

[javiscigarette]

Bad Mood

Joel x f!reader (pre/no outbreak)

Summary: Based on this ask (thank u nonnie)!! Joel punishes bratty reader that's it

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW 18+ no use of Y/N, established relationship, straight up filth not much else, dom!Joel brat!reader, spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, oral (m receiving)

Word count: 3k

A/N: Using this as my 450 follower celebration! I'm so grateful for everyone who's followed me and enjoyed my silly little fics. I love this community <3. Also, this is relatively short but I am already planning a part two to this so stay tuned hehehe. my masterlist

Joel knew you were in a bad mood the second you walked through the door. 

The door slams behind you and carelessly toss your keys on the little entryway table. You keep your headphones on as you kick off your shoes and stomp off to the bedroom, not even bothering to look at Joel who’s sitting on the couch in the living room not even six feet away. 

Joel stays silent as he watches you stride down the hall to the bedroom, wincing just slightly when he hears the bedroom door slam shut. 

You keep your music blasting as you immediately change into your comfy clothes. Today was a horrible day at work. Your boss has been breathing down your neck for the last two weeks about a project you're working on, nitpicking every single detail and telling you to make a million changes. And today, despite all the edits and changes she told you to make, she still picked it apart, telling you that you were better off restarting the whole thing. 

And now you were left with a day and a half to “fix” this project before it’s due. So yeah, you were in a bit of a bad mood. 

After changing, it’s straight to stress cleaning. With your headphones on, you storm back into the kitchen and start to pull out all of the cleaning supplies from under the sink. Your music is loud enough that you don’t hear Joel clearing his throat behind you. You only notice that he’s there whenever you stand up and turn around. He says something to you and looks at you expectedly, forcing you to stop your music. 

“What?” you snap at him, ripping out one of your ear buds. 

Joel raises his eyebrows at you and holds up his hands in innocence.  “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Your narrow your eyes at him because how dare he interrupt you right now with his genuine love and care for you. 

“No.” you reply firmly, putting your earbud back in. 

You go to start cleaning, but Joel is saying something else before you can even pick up the rag. 

You rip your earbud out again and actually snap at him this time with a “What Joel?!”  

Joel tilts his head with his eyebrows raised, giving you a silent warning to lose the attitude. 

But the last thing you need right now is someone else telling you what to do. 

“Can I please just clean the damn kitchen in peace?” you ask, your words biting a little harder than you intended but you don’t care. 

Joel stares at you for a good five seconds, his jaw subtly shifting and clenching as he grinds his teeth. 

“Okay.”

That’s all he says before turning away and walking out of the room. 

You immediately feel a pang of guilt seeing him walk away, but the anger is quick to wash it away and cloud your head again. 

You spend the next thirty minutes scouring the kitchen from top to bottom. Every cabinet door and every drawer you open is shut with a slam and you scrub the countertops so vigorously that your arm is starting to get sore. 

Thinking he’s given you enough time, Joel comes back in, standing near you as you scrub away at the spot of burnt on food on the stovetop. You can see him in your peripheral, standing a foot or two away from you but you ignore him. You already told him to leave you alone once. 

He stands there for a few moments, trying to get you to look over at him but he eventually gives up and just takes out one of your earbuds. 

The saying “seeing red” never made much sense to you until just now. 

“What the hell, Joel!” you shout, finally turning to face him. The anger boils up inside of you and you can feel your whole body heat up you try to snatch your earbud back from him but he’s faster than you and holds it up high to where you can’t reach. 

“Joel I’m so fucking serious right now, just leave me alo-” 

Joel takes out your other earbud and tosses them to the counter behind him before you can say anything else. 

“Joel!” you nearly scream, your face red hot with anger now. 

“Quit acting like a fuckin’ brat” Joel says quietly, his tone serious and stern.

“I’m not being a fucking brat, you’re the one annoying the shit out of me right now” 

Joel’s eyes narrow, trying to mask his shock at your attitude. You’re rarely ever this angry and you almost never take it out on Joel like this. 

“Drop this attitude right now and I’ll give you one more chance and act like you didn’t just fucking say that” Joel says, his voice audibly tenser. 

You roll your eyes and reach for your earbuds again, but again, Joel is faster than you and pins your wrist to the counter with his hand. 

“Joel, just fuck off” you mutter. His grip on your wrist is so tight that your fingers are starting to tingle from the restricted blood flow. You look up at him and immediately realize how fucked you are. His face is hard as stone, a deep frown tugging at his lips while he stares holes into your own eyes. 

“Okay, baby. You want to act like a brat, I’ll treat you like a fuckin’ brat” Joel spits before tugging harshly on your wrist and dragging you out of the kitchen. 

“Joel, I am not in the mood right now” you say as he leads you to the living room, nearly pulling your arm out of socket as he does. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Joel says firmly. He stops near the couch and release his grasp on your wrist. 

“Now get on your knees and shut that mouth up with my cock.” 

You snort at his words and laugh right in his face. 

“You think I’m going to blow you right now? You’re the one who should be apologizing to me” you snarl, accusingly poking him in the chest to emphasize your words.  

Joel is still as a rock as he stares at you again, the darkness in his eyes already starting to break down some the resolve inside of you. 

“You’re gonna regret that, baby.” Joel whispers from behind clenched teeth. 

Without another word, Joel grips your wrist once again and steps towards the couch. He sits down and pulls you until you’re standing in front of him before pulling down your shorts and panties in one go. He then pulls you down into his lap and even though you try to fight back, Joel is a lot stronger than you and easily maneuvers you until you’re on your stomach laying across his lap with your face pressed against the couch cushion and your ass in the air. Joel keeps a firm hand on the back of your neck, pinning your head to the couch with your face smushed against the cushion. 

He uses his other hand to rub your ass, the soft shorts you put on earlier easily riding up and exposing most of your skin. You try to wiggle out of his grasp but there’s no use. He’s not letting go of you now. 

“How many do you think you deserve?” Joel asks, his voice steady and calm again now that he has you like this. 

You don’t say anything, just humph and try to squirm out from underneath his hold again. Bad idea. The grip on the back of your neck tightens and then the room is filled with the loud crack of his hand coming down heavy on your ass. 

You yelp in surprise, tingles of pain radiating from the spot here he spanked you. Your determination to keep up this attitude is quickly crumbling. Joel knew exactly how to put you back in your place. 

“I think at least 10” Joel says before delivering two more harsh smacks to both cheeks. You bite back a whimper, still enough willpower to try and not let him see how affected you actually are. “Starting now.” 

Your eyes roll back, and your brows furrow deeply as he gives you another hard spank. The moan in your throat comes out through your nose as a sharp exhale as you keep wiggling in his lap. 

Joel’s hand comes down on you again, the loud sound echoing in the otherwise silent house. “And we’re gonna start over if you don’t count them for me.” 

Another spank has your eyes squeezing shut. “That’s three then” you pant.  

“Nope, we’re starting from the beginning” Joel says before connecting his palm to your ass again. “That’s one.” 

You try twisting out of his grip once again and his next smack is even harder. 

“Stop trying to escape or I’m gonna add more. Now count for me” 

You stop wiggling, slowly starting to accept defeat. 

“Two.” 

Joel hums in approval and lands another harsh smack to your cheek. 

“Three” you say obediently, still trying to cover the tremor in your voice. You’re still fuming and the fact that he has you pinned down like this, completely unable to move is fueling your fire. 

Another smack.

“Four.” 

By the nineth, you’re clinging to the last shred of your control. Your cheeks are burning hot, your skin raised in the shape of Joel’s handprint. By now, you can feel him fully hard pressing against your abdomen. 

“Nine.” 

Joel can hear the tremble in your voice now, clear as day. He silently rubs his palm over your cheek, soothing the warm, swollen skin. 

His soft touch is gone as soon as it came, his fingers quickly finding your slit instead. With no warning, he plunges two fingers inside of you, easily curling his fingertips against your g-spot. 

“Yeah, I knew you’d be fuckin’ soaked” Joel says with a breathless chuckle as he keeps prodding against your spot, the lewd sounds of his fingers moving inside you echoing around the room. You cry out in surprise as Joel relentlessly punches his fingers against the spot that sends massive waves of hot liquid pleasure up your spine. You try to swallow your moans, still refusing to give in to him all the way and bite your lip until you taste the metallic tang of blood.  

“Just give it up, baby. I know you want to” Joel coos. And he’s right, you want nothing more than to just give it up and let him put you in your place. But you can’t give up just yet. This wasn’t the first time Joel has punished you and every time he does, there’s something inside you, an urge to find out how far Joel will take your punishments. 

So, you shake your head as much as you can with his hand still holding your neck against the couch cushion.

 Joel clicks his tongue disapprovingly letting you know that you made another bad choice. You suppress a groan when he pulls his fingers out of you. He takes his hand off your neck and grips both of your cheeks and spreads you open. You quietly hiss at the bite of the cold air against your burning wet heat. 

“Such a pretty pussy” Joel whispers as he leans over to get a good look. It takes everything in you not to moan and wiggle your hips in his face as he keeps you spread open and inspects you. 

Then there’s the sound of Joel spitting behind you. You swallow thickly, pushing down another moan once you feel the warm liquid dribble onto your skin and slide down between your cheeks. Your chest tightens at the sensation, and you bite your cheek as a hot wave of arousal crashes down over you. 

He sits up straight again, his hand quickly coming back to wrap around the back of your neck and hold you in place again. With his other hand, he finds your puckered hole and rubs over it with the pad of his thumb, using his spit as lube. You let out one small whine when the tip of it catches on your rim. 

“C’mon, angel. Lemme hear those pretty sounds and I’ll let you cum” Joel presses.

You can’t possibly hold out any longer. Not with your skin hot and burning from your spanking, his fingers pushing hard against your g-spot, his thumb teasing your asshole and the big, strong hand holding you down by your fucking neck. 

There’s nothing you can do to stop the loud moan that tumbles past your lips as he moves his fingers reach deeper inside of you until he presses a spot even deeper inside you. 

“There it is” Joel sighs, his chest swelling with pride as you tremble and start to fall apart underneath him. “That’s a good girl.” 

He stays in position for a little longer, your pretty sounds filling the room as he gives you exactly what you need. You’re already close because of course Joel knows how to get you there in just a couple of minutes. He knows your body almost better than his, knows what makes you tick and recognizes all of your signs. 

So, it’s not surprising that he hears the specific moans and can feel the way that you clench around his fingers, wordlessly letting him know that you’re about to reach the edge. 

And it shouldn’t be surprising when he suddenly slips his fingers out of you and lands a final smack to your ass, heavier and louder than all the others, but it still makes you cry out. You whimper at the loss of his touch and the way the burning pain radiating from his hits mixes so deliciously with the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“Count, angel” Joel says calmly, giving you a friendly reminder that you’re still in trouble.  Five minutes ago, you would’ve ripped his head off for saying that. But obeying is a lot easier when you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm. 

“Ten. Ten, sir. Thank you” you mewl. You know that he’s probably not going to let you cum soon. You’ve been here enough times to know that much. Still, you wiggle your hips, hoping that he’d go easy on you and slide his fingers back inside you. But Joel is not known for going easy on anyone.

“Good girl using your manners” Joel praises. “But you were a very bad girl earlier. Do you think bad girls deserve to cum?” he asks, quickly washing away any of your hopes of an orgasm in the near future. 

Joel doesn’t say anything else as he maneuvers you again, pushing your legs to the ground and holding down on your shoulders until you’re kneeling in front of him while he remains seated on the couch. 

You look up at him with wide eyes, your chest heaving as your knees dig into the hardwood floors underneath you as you stay still and quietly wait for his instructions. You have no fight left in you, completely surrendering to him just in hopes of being able to cum at least once tonight. 

Joel smiles down at you and cups your jaw. You immediately nuzzle against his palm and bat your eyelashes innocently at him. 

“Now suck my cock like a good girl I know you are.” 

You follow Joel’s command easily and reach for the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull down his pants and boxers to his mid-thigh, his hard cock slapping up against his lower abdomen. 

With no other preface, you take him in your mouth, your lips wrapped around his tip as you roll your tongue all around his sensitive head. And apparently that’s more than enough teasing for Joel because his hand comes up to the back of your head and forces you down his length. 

You gag at the sudden intrusion and try to quickly recover, not wanting to give Joel another reason to punish you more. His hand remains heavy on your head, holding you in place with his cock down your throat as you drool around him for a few more seconds, your cunt throbbing between your legs as he uses you. 

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out your smart little mouth” Joel huffs. 

You give a small nod, and he lets go of your head, letting you pull off for a breath. He watches you intently as gasp for air, smirking when you start to cough. 

“My cock too big for you, angel?” Joel teases as he brings a thumb to the corner of your mouth to wipe up your drool before pushing it back in your mouth. You shake your head no and Joel smiles at you and removes his thumb so you can talk. 

“No, sir. I can take it” you reply breathlessly. 

“Yeah, I know you can, angel. Now show me how good you can be for me.” 

With another small nod you take him back in your mouth. His hand returns to the back your head and he rolls his hips up, pushing himself down your throat.

You stay as still as possible, keeping your mouth and throat open and letting Joel fuck your throat. You’ve had him in your mouth almost every day since the first month you met him, but your jaw already starts to ache like it’s impossible to get used to the sheer size of his cock. Drool starts to spill out of the corner of your mouth again and you shamelessly let it run down your chin.

Joel shows no mercy, bucking up into you like he’s completely disregarding the fact that you need to breathe. But you know he’s not. You know he has a careful eye on you, watching for signs that he’s pushing you too far. 

“Takin’ me so well, angel. Knew you could be good for me” Joel grunts, encouraging you to keep going as the hand on your head briefly pets your hair. 

All the anger that had been building for the past couple of days has dissipated. All the stress about your job and your ridiculous boss were miles away and now the only thing you're thinking about is Joel's thick cock down your throat.

You stay there for what feels like forever and allow him to use you as he pleases. Your neglected pussy clenches desperately around nothing, slick leaking down your thighs because how could you not be turned on with Joel using you like his personal fucktoy. 

You’re now drooling everywhere, absolutely soaking his cock as you breathe heavily through your nose, your eyelids heavy. And as much as Joel wants to continue to fuck your mouth until your jaw breaks, he can’t hold back his own pleasure for much longer. 

After a couple more thrusts down your throat, he abruptly pulls out and His hand is a blur as you watch him fist himself for a couple of seconds until he starts to cum. His moans and little whimpers send fire straight to your core as he paints your face with hot ropes of cum. He’s messy with it, letting it get everywhere, your chin, your mouth, your cheeks, and your hair. You mewl quietly and press your thighs together searching for any sort of friction on your dripping pussy as Joel marks you, claiming you as his.  

You patiently wait for him come back down, listening his quiet groans as he pumps out every drop. 

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he leans back against the couch and drops his hand from your head again. 

“You look so pretty all covered in my cum, angel” Joel says with a lopsided smile. You smile sweetly back at him, your eyelashes fluttering against your flushed cheek. He swipes a thumb through the mess on your cheek and slides it past your lips. You suck his thumb clean, swallowing down everything he gives you. 

He revels in the sensation of you suckling on his thumb for a little bit before slipping it out with a soft pop. You look up at him, waiting for his next instruction with the hopes of having your own release soon. 

“Knew you could be good, angel. Now go finish cleaning the kitchen and then I’ll think about letting you cum.” 

Your jaw drops as you stare up at him with wide eyes. Joel just laughs cruelly at your expression. 

“But...but Joel, please I want-”

“Should’ve thought about that earlier, angel. You know bad girls don’t get to cum. Now get up and finish cleaning” Joel says with a sickeningly sweet tone. You blink at him a few more times hoping he’d miraculously change his mind. 

But he doesn’t. So, with your attitude completely gone now, you follow his directions and shakily stand up. You give him one more pathetic, pleading look but he just smirks back at you. Accepting defeat, you turn and walk back to the kitchen.  

“And don’t even think about cleanin’ your face yet” Joel calls out from behind you. 

Ty for reading hugs and smoochies for all of you!!!

[m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s]

DUCKY! I love the idea of Crosshair calling his beloved Ducky. Not to project myself or to give a plot idea, I was chased by a duck when I was tree years old. It's a core memory of mine. Anyways, I just came to formally request something along the lines of Crosshair calling his female S/O Ducky because it feels like it would just be so cute!! ❤️✨

YES THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS YESSSSS

also did i like finish this and then forget to post it.

yes.

does it matter?

no.

also, let me know if you guys would be interested in a part 2, because i really want to, and it would be so cool if someone requested it okay anyway here is the fic :)

—

Crosshair x F!Reader, pt. 1

Word Count: 1,637 words

Warnings: N/A, besides use of nicknames

Genre: Angst & Hurt/Comfort, but there’s no comfort at all, it’s just hurt

Description: An argument with Crosshair leads to a ducky conclusion.

—

Lucky Ducky

—

You had to be an idiot to think this mission was going to go well. Idiotic. Out of your mind.

Magically, your alarm hadn’t gone off this morning. You knew for a fact you had set it last night, you even remember wishing Tech a “good night” before setting it. It was set, you were positive.

Funnily enough, the gear you had set out for yourself the following morning was also gone, strewn randomly around the ship. The rest of the Batch didn’t appreciate the messily placed gear, even though you knew for a fact you had set it all up for yourself.

Oh, and your pillow.

Warm.

Both.

Sides.

You knew exactly what had happened to your alarm, the gear, the pillow. Or better yet, who.

Who was also paired with you during this mission.

What Hunter was thinking, you’ll never know. Pairing you with Crosshair was a choice. A very, very, very idiotic choice.

Crosshair and you had never gotten along. For as long as you had been with the Batch’s chaotic family dynamic, Crosshair was an estranged member. Extremely estranged from you.

From the start, he had been pushing your buttons left and right, up and down, side to side. Jamming, breaking, everything he could do to annoy you, upset you, anything at all. Even though you could jab back, he still annoyed you to no end.

Like right now.

“Hurry it up, sweetheart. You’re holding me up,” Crosshair declared, paces ahead of you.

You had been trapezing with Crosshair through the grassy landscape. Mossy green trees towered above you, poppy reds, baby blues, and sunset oranges decorated the grass in the shape of flowers. The sun was high, clouds cradling the energy source. It should have been extremely relaxing.

Peaceful.

“Holding you up, or holding you back?” You grumbled, trampling through some brush Crosshair had failed to hold back for you. You were positive he had done that on purpose.

“Both.” He responded, still walking ahead of you.

“Get over yourself, princess.” You commented, mood souring from how annoying the sniper could be.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever, princess.”

An irritated sigh escaped Crosshair’s lips, helmet removed in the short spout of insults.

Maker, you couldn’t stand him.

Luckily, you were fast approaching the hillside you needed to keep eyes from while the rest of the Batch snuck into a base. It housed some tech thing you needed, and you and Crosshair were to “get along and keep watch”.

You could keep watch, but get along? That would be a stretch. Yet now, finally up here, it was a perfect time to confront him.

You two approached the top of the hillside, Crosshair preparing to settle in for the watch.

This was the time to strike.

“I know you messed with my stuff,” you mentioned nonchalantly, turning towards the sniper. He was getting his weapon ready, eyeing you with that annoying smirk he had.

“Not sure what you mean there, sweetheart.”

So annoying.

“I know you messed with my stuff! I know you turned off my alarm, and you moved my gear, and both sides of my pillow were warm!” You exclaimed, spinning to face him.

Anger was beginning to simmer in your blood, aggravation tickling the nerves of your already short fuse with Crosshair. A fuse that could spark at any moment, yet you knew if you reigned your emotions in for long enough, you could spark him when the time was right.

“Still not sure what you mean, sweetheart,” he sneered, body now turning to face you in response. His demeanor remained unchanged, but his eyes were starting to narrow.

“I know you messed with my stuff, Crosshair,” you remarked, the springy green landscape suddenly becoming interesting. If you played it right, you would be successful.

He just had to take the bait.

“You know, it’s wrong to frame people,” he answered, walking forward for a better scope on the hillside. You could give up now, but you felt persistent today.

And he had taken the bait.

“Well then I guess it’s wrong to say I’m a better shot than you.”

It was like his breathing stopped.

“What.”

Time to push his buttons. Revenge for him messing with your morning.

“Well, I mean, it’s true. My shot has gotten better at the range. I would say it even rivals yours,” you commented, acting as if it was the simplest thing.

He spun to face you. A fiery flame burned within his eyes. Hell was waiting for you in those eyes.

Too bad hell didn’t scare you.

“What did you just say,” he snarled, weapon being abandoned. He strode up to you, yet you stepped back in sync.

You realized he wasn’t asking either.

He was demanding.

“Oh, just that my shot rivals yours, princess,” you repeated. A huffing growl broke through his teeth. He continued to prowl toward you, the fire dancing wildly in his eyes.

It was a strange tango you were doing. You, the prey, pushing buttons to no end, wanting to see the outcome. Crosshair, the predator, ready to rip you a new one.

Maybe if you just pushed a tad bit more…

“I mean, you just have to accept I might be a better shot, princess.”

“Stop. It.”

“It’s alright, it happens to the best-”

You never got to finish your sentence. Instead, you were screaming.

You had fallen off the hillside.

Or better yet, Crosshair had pushed you.

Instantly, you were tumbling down the hill at full speed, unable to stop yourself.

Splash!

“Shit,”Crosshair mumbled, racing to the bottom of the hill.

You were no longer in a grassy landscape, you instead had landed in a bright cerulean blue pond. Blooming pink and white blossoms decorated lily pads along the edge, pond moss floating on the surface. A couple of reed bushes were hanging over the edge as well. Behind you, flourishing trees extended leafy arms out over the pond, providing shade.

It would’ve been a much more pleasant view if you weren’t wading in it.

Literally.

Crosshair reached the edge, a strange sort of panic and concern plaguing his face.

For some reason, your heart twisted at the look on his face. Almost like it pained you.

Like he hadn’t meant to push you at all.

Quack.

You waded closer to shore, sitting up in a shallower portion of the pond. Water pooled around you, and somehow the anger you were holding onto burnt out.

His expression didn’t make sense to you.

Quack.

How could he look so… sorry?

Quack. Quack. Quack.

Your mind halted, eyes searching for all the noise. A quick look around you showed you the answer.

All around you, golden creatures had surrounded you. They were tiny, orange webbed feet paddling around you. Soft, fuzzy, cute. As you leaned your head down, it occurred to you what the adorable creatures were.

Baby ducklings.

Quack. Quack.

You almost hadn’t noticed the laughter that rang through the air.

Crosshair. Laughing.

The sound caught your ears by surprise, heart twisting once again. Strangely, the twist felt different.

“What’s so funny?!” You demanded, the little ducks still swimming around you in glee. Your eyes darted between the laughing sniper and the cute creatures, as if you couldn’t believe which was crazier.

“Nothing. It’s just- well…”

His eyes glistened with joy.

You had a feeling you weren’t going to like his next words.

“You’re just one lucky duck, aren’t you?”

Quack.

You groaned, earning another round of laughter. You couldn’t believe it. Not only did he have the audacity to push you off the hillside, but now he was standing here, laughing at you.

“Hey!”

A shout rang out from behind you, suddenly allowing you to be greeted by the sight of the rest of the Batch.

“What are you two… doing?”

Hunter had lost his yell halfway through, confusion clouding his expression at the sight. The rest of the Batch looked just at shock, all of them at a loss for what to say. They weren't sure what to question first, Crosshair laughing, you being surrounded by ducks, or how keeping watch had turned into this.

Quack. Quack. Quack.

“Well, Ducky here decided she needed some swimming lessons with her new friends,” Crosshair snickered, face plastered with that stupid smirk.

Oh, now he had really done it.

“Ducky?! You’re joking! Not only do you push me off the hillside, you laugh at me, and you give me a nickname?!” You screamed, shooting straight up. Your anger had suddenly returned, nerves fried with anger and pond water.

Quack.

Crosshair’s smirk disappeared, laughter dying with it.

His face changed, becoming unreadable, yet his eyes held an unfamiliar guilt

“I’m going back to the ship,” you muttered angrily, eyes piercing Crosshair’s gaze.

Quack.

You stumbled out of the pond, dripping like a wet towel. Pushing past Crosshair, you started trekking back towards the ship. Protests rang out from the others, but you ignored them.

Hunter was out of his mind for pairing you up with Crosshair, you were an idiot for thinking this mission could have gone well, and you were certainly idiotic for pushing his buttons just to get at him. Even if it had made you feel like you had the power in your court for once.

You weren’t idiotic enough to miss the guilt in his eyes though. That in itself made your heart do that ugly twist again.

Your mind was like the pond, splashed with confusion, guilt, and uncertainty. You were too distracted to even realize you were leading a line of ducklings behind you. It wasn’t even until halfway back to the ship that you noticed, eyes scanning the tiny line of creatures.

Quack. Quack. Quack.

You closed your eyes, sighing in exasperation.

Quack. Quack.

Some lucky duck you were indeed.

—

taglist: @padawancat97

also tagging the lovely @moonstrider9904, as well as a few others who I think would like to see this! @hellothere-generalangsty@nahoney22 @eyecandyeoz @baddest-batchers @ladysaturnsdust @leenabb104104 @snowlotr @thora-sniper @dalu-grantkylo

If any of those tagged, or anyone else is interested in being on my taglist, here is the form to fill it out, or leave your interest in the comments. You can also find my taglist form on my pinned post!

Taglist Form

[brittle-doughie]

4th time I've sent this ask, sorry if I seem inpatient. Hello I came up with Y/n cookie idea which includes Royal icing and crowned cupcake cookie based on these lyrics!

summary: They kidnap Y/n which causes them to develop different personalities overtime due to trauma. The personalities, whilst dislike eachother, take control most of the time with and without the presence of the siblings in fear of them traumatizing y/n even more. They try to get rid of the personalities but instead unknowingly got rid of Y/n forever leading to the personalities to grieve for the loss of Y/n and are resentful of the 2. When Royal icing and crowned cupcake cookie left the personalities gathered enough inner strength to break out of the basement where they were kept in. They trashed and destroyed the place and as an F you to the siblings, they burnt down their place of living right infront of them. The personalities in Y/n's body now live in peace in the woods far away from civilization to hide from the 2 siblings; still grieving for Y/n.

"So I guess I've made my bed. I can't lie to myself, anymore. And I put myself through hell, I hear the bells. My hair is growing thin, my eyes are sunken in. And every morning shows how bad a keeper I have BEEN.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ! HYPERACTIVE HORNETS IN MY- LUNGS LUNGS LUNGS LUNGS! SICK OF FEELING NOTHING LIKE- ENOUGH NOUGH NOUGH. I'm so- STUCK STUCK STUCK! AND MY BODY IS INHABITED BY BUGS BUGS BUGS!

SHUT UP UP UP UP! NOTHING EVER MATTERS TILL IT- DOES DOES DOES DOES! THINK I'LL START A FIRE JUST FOR FUN! THE SUN! IS LOADED LIKE A GUN, AND SHOOTING VENOM RIGHT INTO MY BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!

I can barely SEE you standing right in view of VIVID apparations who PROJECT THEMSELVES onto PICTURE PERFECT CELLS. I can barely SEE you standing right in view of VIVID apparations who PROJECT THEMSELVES onto PICTURE PERFECT CELLS. I can barely SEE you standing right in view of VIVID apparations who PROJECT THEMSELVES onto PICTURE PERFECT CELLS.

SWEET RELIEF LIKE CONCRETE LIVES UNDER MY DREAMS, HAS MORE TO LOSE THAN MEEEEE!

Become the catalyst, till the chaos consume me till I consume it and take command. command CHANCE, command TRUTH, command FEAR, command...RISK."

Song is called "Fire4fun" by Jhariah btw ok bye.

Getting kinda burnt out on lyric asks, might hold off on them for a bit after this one

"So I guess I've made my bed. I can't lie to myself, anymore. And I put myself through hell, I hear the bells. My hair is growing thin, my eyes are sunken in. And every morning shows how bad a keeper I have BEEN.”

Y/N had made their choice back there and they can’t deny what they did. They had been put through a lot whether by the siblings or to themselves while they survived in the woods, as shown with how their state deteriorated with their hair and their eyes.

“I can barely SEE you standing right in view of VIVID apparations who PROJECT THEMSELVES onto PICTURE PERFECT CELLS.“

Y/N had once let their judgement be clouded by the picture perfect images of the siblings, making them unable to see what type of people they really were.

“Become the catalyst, till the chaos consume me till I consume it and take command. command CHANCE, command TRUTH, command FEAR, command...RISK."

The burning down of their living space was just the fire starter of what could likely lead to a dark path for Y/N Cookie, letting darkness and chaos take control of their mind. It’s better to be feared then loved if one cannot have both, and being feared was looking to be pretty tempting right now…

[bonbonbee]

Hello!

Can I request a list of prompts based on the trope of an office romance? Also if possible can you add the trope of rivals to lovers, that is if you are ok with it. 😊

sure ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა !!

office rivals to lovers

prompt list by @bonbonbee

they're your superior and have been assigned to manage you. "you're a mess." "correction. i'm your mess."

"here's the report you wanted." flip, flip "2 pages? that's cute cupcake, it's also not going to make the cut."

"i got zero sleep last night completing my paperwork. i feel like crap." "you look like it, too." they did not think that, in fact, they wish they were with you in bed that morning to see your adorable morning face.

pov: you had to stay at the office working overtime on a company project. they see you at your desk on their way out, your eyelids drooping. sigh "i know we're not friends or anything, but we are coworkers so let me help."

gulp "hey, uhm, you want coffee or something? they fixed the coffee machine yesterday." "you want to get me coffee?" i want you. "correct."

"you are possibly the most vexing individual i've ever met. and mind you i know a lot of people! and don't even get me started on the way you speak."

pov: you're telling your work-best friend about your newest talking stage until they hear. "this isn't show and tell, miss." "you're just jealous." "maybe i am." "what was that?" "go back to your work, (last/name).

"shoot! i missed the bus!", you yell out. "stranded, ms. (l/n)?" you sigh, it just had to be them, right? turning around you spoke, "no." obviously you were stuck, for god's sake, it was raining in a big city! "need a ride then?" they smirked, and you caught onto the obvious innuendo. the car ride was silent, but those gossiping hens at the office definitely were not.

you were currently on cloud 9, floating in the clouds. oh, how you wished you could nap like this for the rest of eternity. unfortunately, you were getting woken up by some honeyed voice you must say. who was that angelic being? "ms. (l/n)?" they tapped your shoulder. "ms. (l/n), please wake up." oh.

(meeting) "i'm pretty sure the presentation is on the screen not on ms. (l/n)'s face." "apologies, sir," they uttered.

"hey, what time do you get off?" "6 PM." "what a coincidence, me too!" "what exactly are you trying to pull here, (last name)?"

[imraespace]

LIFE'S HARD WHEN YOU'RE INLOVE ─

─ WITH RIN ITOSHI !!

━ 9:29 AM

After your cake giving, homeroom had ended, and now it's first period, Art.

Art is an okay subject for you, you actually enjoy it.

Though, today's class is a bit different than the others.

Today, the teacher gave a project. Group project! Your mood visually fell when you heard those words.

After the wave of annoyed groans, the teacher explained everything to the class. It was a duo project where both partners have to come together and create a poster based of one thing they like. It has to include calligraphy, as it's the current main topic in class.

A duo.. but there's three of you, Meguru, Yoichi and yourself.

As if on cue, you three share a look then back at the teacher. The teacher already made the pairs, which caused a gloom cloud over the class.

Though, as if the teacher loves your friends, they got in pairs, both Meguru and Yoichi. Though, is she on your side as well? The name Rin Itoshi shocked you to the core.

You're sharing a project with him..

Your eyes made their way to him, on the outside it looked like he wasn't one bit fazed but how does he feel on the inside?

The class got in their pairs and that's how you, Y/N L/N, sat next to Rin Itoshi for a whole period.

━ 12:39 PM

Rin left the class, without giving you any info, on where and when to meet up. He didn't really look pleased about the project either way.

At the end of the class, the groups got together and already started planning, which left you and Rin behind. Normally, you always do your schoolwork late but in past school projects, you do the work first and then leave the rest for the others. But right now you can't do anything if your partner isn't here.

But thank goodness, you know where your partner always disappears to. So with that thought, you made your way to the field.

This time around, normally the whole team is present at the field but it seems that this lunch is different. Some stuck around but there he is, practicing alone.

You stood by the benches for a while, staring at his figure, you didn't feel the need to break him out of his zone.

Your mind then wandered, thinking about the project. What's his favorite thing? Will it work out with yours? Everyone knows you love sweets, what will he choose?

Nevermind, too deep into your thoughts, you fail to notice that he had made his way towards you a while ago. His shoes are now in your field of vision and slowly, you looked up and was greeted with his face.

You didn't say a word, just stood up. He stared at you for a bit, wondering why you were here. Then it hit him and he sighed.

"If you're here because of the project, we can do it later." HE simply stated.

You nodded at his words, but there's little information given in there.

"But.. we can at least plan a time and where to meet up.." You mumbled as he was collecting his water.

He sat himself on the bench, drinking his water while taking in your words.

"We can meet up after school and you can choose a place to go."

You sat back on the bench, nowhere close to him though. You thought about his words. Where to meet up?

The pros and cons of this are back at your place, you have everything you need, thanks to Reo but what if he also has them at his place? The cons are that you have your roommates and he has his snack-stealing brother..

"I don't mind if we go to my place.." You muttered. He stole a glance at you and then muttered a small okay. Then it was quiet again.

He was the first to break it, standing back up to resume his practice.

"I will see you at hometime then." He ended, walking back onto the field.

"Okay.." You said, yet he wasn't there to hear you.

You had yet to leave, still on the bench and your eyes followed his every move. He noticed it, wondering why you were still here but he threw it in the back of his mind, focusing on the ball.

Slowly, the idea of spending time with Rin is hitting your brain. You can't even sit next to him yet you're gonna spend time with him alone? Wow..

You sighed, standing up, and decided to head to the library for some help on this project. Without you knowing, his eyes followed you, wondering what you were gonna do in the library.

Then he stopped himself and sighed. He's supposed to be practicing right now, not wanting your eyes on him for some reason.

━ 4:00 PM

The final bell rang, signaling that school was over.

"Did you get to speak to your partner?" Meguru asked, poking your back.

Yoichi turned to see what your response would be. However, before you could, said partner had made his way toward your table.

"Let's go and get it over with." He simply stated, ignoring your friends beside you.

Wow, so demanding.. It's making you blush a bit. You nodded at his words, scrambling to collect your books to pack them away in your bag. After a while, you stood up, looking at the boy before you. He nodded and began walking, with you trailing behind.

You left your friends alone, staring at each other with a confused look.

"Wasn't he a bit.. bold.." Yoichi muttered.

Meguru nodded.

"And the way she acted.. If it was me she would've.."

Yoichi just patted his back.

"It's okay, let's just go."

.

.

.

Rin walked in front, while you were in the back. It's not that you wanted to be left behind, well you don't mind it because it's a great view you get but it's simply because he's literally 6 feet tall.

The more you stared at him, the more you realized that you barely knew anything about the boy, you literally don't even know his age.

Maybe this project can change all of that. It lasts for five days anyways.

Slowly, you sped up a bit to catch up a bit, but it was no use..

Sighing, you accepted the fact that compared to him you're short and decided to stay in the back for the long walk home.

.

.

.

Outside the school building, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face you, which caught you off guard.

"I don't know the place to your home." He muttered.

Oh yeah.. Wait, walk home..

You scanned the area and saw your roommates, waiting by the school gate for you.

Rin noticed the shift in your emotions and turned his head in the direction you were looking in.

"Hold on for a minute.." You mumbled, running away from the boy.

Your roommate, Reo, eyes landed on your figure which he thought that you were here for them, and began walking away with Seishiro mindlessly walking behind him.

"WAIT! Dang.." You called out, making the boys stop in their tracks.

"What?" Reo asked, turning around to face you.

You let out the breath you were holding in and began talking.

"I have an Art project to complete-"

"Same." Seishiro stated.

"..Okay and it's a group project-"

"Oh, we have one as well, we're partners," Reo said.

You rolled your eyes at the idea of them interrupting you and the fact that not only Yoichi and Meguru got each other but your roommates have each other. What next, Hyoma has Kunigami? You don't even know Kunigami but y'know..

Anyways, you gave them a look to zip it and they obeyed.

"I'm gonna walk home with my partner, so you guys are alone today." You ended.

They stared at each other for a bit then nodded and left. You sighed, turning around to collect Rin but saw that he was already making his way towards you.

"I'm ready now." You said. He acknowledged your words and you led the way to your home, leaving the fact that those boys were your roommates and told him absolutely nothing.

━ 4:20 PM

The walk wasn't that long and it wasn't uncomfortable either. You snacked on some chocolate you had in your bag on the way there but finally, you arrived.

You both made your way up to the apartment room, Rin's eyes staring at the decoration around the building. No surprise, the apartment you there live in is indeed big in size, you live with Reo Mikage.

Though, in Rin's mind, he wonders what your parents do for a living. He has something mixed up.

Finally, you made it to the door and were about to open it until you heard noises inside, which you silently slapped yourself for not warning Rin.

"I literally forgot about them.." You mumbled.

"Who? You're parents?"

"Parents?" You thought out loud, turning to face Rin.

Now he was confused.

"Huh?" He asked.

Before you could turn the door knob, Reo did for you, guess you both weren't very soft in volume..

"You're here- HE'S YOUR PARTNER?" Reo asked out loudly.

You motioned for him to quiet down, placing your finger to your lips and making a "shh" noise.

"Doesn't Sei stop at the arcade I thought you both wouldn't be home right now." You muttered.

"Well, we have our own project, remember?" He said, opening the door wider.

You turned to face Rin, motioning for him to enter first, and slowly he did. I guess he wasn't expecting them..

You entered your home and realized that they already took the living room..

"DON'T YOU BOTH HAVE YOUR ROOMS TO CHOOSE?" You asked out loudly this time.

"It's closer to the kitchen," Seishiro mumbled, playing whatever game was connected to the TV screen. At least there are books on the coffee table but they aren't really taking this project planning well huh.

You sighed, realizing that you have to take your CRUSH to your room.

Reo shrugged his shoulder at you then made his way back onto the couch.

You rolled your eyes, making your way towards your room with loud thuds, with Rin following quietly behind.

.

.

You made it to your door, mentally checking to remember if your room is messy or not. You sighed, slowly opening the door, and were greeted with your room, thankfully it wasn't as messy as you thought it would be. Just a semi-unmade bed and a few textbooks that rests on your desk where your laptop rest on, thats all.

You walked in as he followed and you closed the door. He sat on your bed, taking a look around your bedroom, admiring whatever posters and decorations you had up.

You weren't expecting to be locked up in your room with him, which is why your confidence went down a bit and you might explode but let's play it cool!

You pulled the chair from your desk up closer to the boy, got a spare book and pen and started off the session.

You stared at your floor, clicking the top of the pen as you thought of what questions you can ask him.

"Um.. well to be honest, before we could talk about our favorite things, we barely even know each other.." You softly pointed out.

He hummed at your words, staring at the blank page on your lap.

"Okay I guess, ask me anything then." He said.

Your face burned up at the given access he gave you. You can ask him anything..

"Okay.. let's start off simple, how old are you?" You asked.

He blinked at your words.

"You don't know how old I am?"

Okay, now you're embarrassed.

"Am I supposed to?"

He scratched his head at your question, gazing away from your eyes.

"Well yeah.. I already know yours.. you're 17 right?" He answered.

Now you're scratching your head and gazing away.

"Yeah I am.." You muttered.

He turned to look back at you and answered your previous question.

"I'm 16."

"YOU'RE WHAT?"

"Is that wrong?"

"NO.. no it's not.. I just thought you would've been older than me or at least my age.." You softly said.

He shrugged at your reaction.

"Whatever I guess, do you want me to ask you a question?" He asked and you nodded.

He began to wonder.

"What's your hobby?"

"Hobby?"

He nodded. You never really had one, before this random change in your emotions to do something, you didn't really do anything.

And Rin found that off based on your reaction he got.

"..So you don't have one?" He asked.

You stared at the ground, realizing how boring you were.

"Uhm.. I guess, baking..?" You thought out loud.

"You guess?" He asked.

You nodded.

"I mean, growing up that's what I always learned to do.." You explained.

"Not to judge, but I always thought you just slept." He confessed.

"Oh, I do!" You exclaimed.

And he raised his eyebrow at your words.

"So your hobby isn't baking?"

"I don't know, I haven't really thought of a hobby."

"You need to think of a hobby..?"

Okay, now you're just embarrassing yourself. Your view of a normal life is quite different from others. The more you learn you guess..

"Okay um, what's something you love? That we can use for the project." You said.

Rin realized that you want to drop the past topic and he did just that, thankfully.

"Horror."

"Hor-what..?" You blankly asked.

"Horror." He said, seriously this time.

You stared at him for a while, then wrote it down.

"Okay.." You mumbled.

"What about you?" He asked, completely not noticing the problem that he caused.

"Oh um.. Sweets."

"Sweets?"

"Sweets." You said, seriously this time!

You both had a mini staring contest at this time.

You both realized how different you were at that point.

You broke the mini staring contest, looking down at your book. You then decided to keep the fact that you hate horror to yourself, just for the sake of this project.

You thought of ways on how to actually start the project and blurted them out.

"Okay horror.. we can watch your favorite horror movie for inspiration." You muttered.

At least on Rin's side, he completely agreed to that.

"What about you? What's your favorite sweet or candy..?" He softly asked.

You blinked at his words, your favorite dessert, it's one you haven't eaten in a really long time, one your mother always made for you.

"My favorite dessert.. is Bavarian Cream, but I don't wanna make it." You mumbled.

"Oh.. Okay, then choose another one."

"Okay, um.." You muttered, there's a lot to choose.

The boy sighed then suggested something fun.

"Tomorrow, we can visit candy shops or look around for desserts."

"We can!" You exclaimed, writing it down.

Unconsciously, Rin had a small smile on his face after seeing your reaction, then stopped himself when he caught on.

## LIFE'S HARD WHEN YOU'RE INLOVE. --

╴“ WITH RIN ITOSHI?? „

ฅ^._.^ฅ : some things about y/n !! she mostly sleeps through the day, only does stuff IF needed !! with her given gift of being effortlessly smart , all she does in her free time is : nap , eat , sleep. hmm what if.. one day y/n develops a crush and now has to ACTUALLY work to achieve a goal ? : date rin itoshi !!

15 // 17

note: when i first found out im the same age as rin i was shocked BC IDK HE DOESNT SEEM LIKE A 16 YO BC hes so seeerious yk ALSO IM 7 MONTHS OLDER THAN HIM? anyways omg hehe new arc

TAGLIST:@deezy12299 @kuroronana @khoiyyu @swagkittybear @shidousprincess @starbarfbunni @jealovsie @imtiredmf @hainge (OPEN)

! if you didn't get tag, that means your acc didn't show up :(

-`♥︎´- for this story, i'm trying something new, which includes words/phrases, foods and hometowns from japan and germany. if there's any errors please point it out !

-`♥︎´- word count : 2.5K

[alvfr]

you asked for it! im forcing you!

how about a scenario on that particular AU you have cooking around? between nightwing and a spiderperson that is marooned in the black and white gotham city

we love to see it

posting this like you haven't already read all of it >.< a/n: the funniest jokes are princess-marida's and she is a blessed saint that endures my long ramblings about wips, including this one. i know it says a scenario, but this turned into a longer project (shocker) so here's the first part of chapter 1 (eventual) paring: dick grayson/reader rating: m (swearing)/sfw cw: spider-woman!reader who never stops talking, no use of y/n, superhero violence summary: for years, you have been the one and only Spider-Woman of your world. However, after being recruited to the multiversal Spider-Society, you learn that there's a version of you in every other universe too.At least that's what you thought until something goes wrong and you end up in a world with plenty of superheroes, but no Spider-Man. You're stranded, alone and glitching. You need to find this world's Spider-Man and restore your link to the Spider-Verse before you disintegrate completely - easier said than done with both a local detective and a hot vigilante on your tail.

Out of the Spider-Verse (and into Gotham)

All right, guys. Let’s start at the beginning one last time. 

Your name is definitely not Peter Parker, but you were bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the last few years, you’ve been the one and only Spider-Woman. At least, you thought you were until another Spider-Woman showed up to recruit you to the multiversal Spider-Society and you realized you were one of many, many, many Spider-things from all kinds of universes. It was a sweet gig, getting you out and about some, meeting new people, doing team-ups and group work, and your leader was a decent enough guy. A little intense. Borderline scary. Easy on the eyes though. Really easy on the eyes.

And one day, you’re hanging out at the headquarters minding your own business, totally not gossipping about boss-man, when the order comes to capture one of your fellow Spider-Men. Next thing you know, you’re caught up in the whirlwind of Spider-Beings chasing after someone called Miles Morales, and somehow, in the chaos, you slip.

A fluke, really. You never slip. You’re Spider-Woman! You literally stick to walls and ceilings, and somehow, you lost your footing and took a tumble into darkness. 

Real darkness. Where bright flashing lights and psychedelic colors had accompanied you all the other times you hopped through dimensions, this time, you fell into a black pit of nothing. Reflexes had you shooting out webs, desperate to get an anchor point. They disappeared into the void with an embarrassing swish, and you did not even have time to scream before you smacked into something undeniably solid.

Concrete, probably, based on the cloud of debris and dust that rained over you as your body dug several feet into it, knocking every cubic inch of air from your lungs with an oof. Yup, you determined as you lifted your now gray arms to study them. Definitely concrete. You dropped your head back into the rubble and made a face under your mask. Concrete dust was a real bitch to get out of the suit, and you would be forced to cosplay as whitewashed Noir Spider-Man until you could get it dry-cleaned. 

Read more on AO3

[back2bluesidex]

Forbidden - KNJ (18+)

Pairing: Professor!Namjoon X Student!Fem reader

Theme: SMUT, PWP, Forbidden relationship au.

Summary: You know it's forbidden but you don't care, not when your professor is more than ready to ruin you.

Word count: 1813

Warnings: professor fucking a student, cumming on her ass, strong language, spanking, slut shaming, Joon hits it from behind, unprotected sex (it's a no no), domish Namjoon.

Minors are NOT welcomed in this blog!!

✨✨✨✨

Forbidden - “Not permitted or allowed” 

There is not a single part of the definition that you don’t understand -- Yet you can't help it.

All of your life you have been an exemplary kid. Be it academics, be it code of conduct, be it discipline, you have always excelled in everything. But you were never nosy about it. You kept yourself humble but quite reserved at the same time. You know well which lines cannot be crossed and which ones can, that too, when you should cross them. 

With a pair of big doe eyes and a heart full of enthusiasm, you stepped into this university. All set to achieve your dream degree. 

However, some of it changed when this one particular person walked into your life. 

“I clearly remember asking everyone to do their own parts even if it’s a group project. Didn’t I?” Kim Namjoon, your physics professor, says with his baritone voice. Hints of anger evident in his expression. 

“Yes, professor.” You and your project partners chant in unison. 

“But I got this feeling that two of you haven’t even written a single word.” Namjoon crosses his hands on his chest as he supports his weight on the table. Your eyes follow his every movement. The way his chest flexes against his tight turtleneck, it's illegal. You inhale sharply trying to shoo away the intrusive thoughts that are starting to cloud your mind. 

“No professor! We did as we were told” one of your partners almost shouts in her defense. You resist the urge of rolling your eyes. You know Namjoon is right, because you were the one to do the entire project. Park Sun Mi was way too busy with her baseball captain boyfriend and Lee Jae Min was way too high to come down and use that one left brain cell to do the project. You had no choice but to do the entire thing alone. You can’t afford to lose points because of your unworthy partners, even if that means giving them the scores they clearly don’t deserve. 

“Is that so? Then you should have no problem in appearing for a test based on the project in my office after your class hours.” their mouths fall open at Namjoon’s suggestion. 

“But professor-” Jaemin starts but Namjoon cuts him off,

“No ifs and buts. Report directly to me after your classes are over. Is that clear?” Namjoon says in a very authoritative tone. There is no room for any objection any more. Neither that you would ever object, you would rather spend an hour or two taking an unnecessary test in his presence than going home and resting. 

“Yes professor.” again you three answer in unison. 

“Leave” your professor orders. You are about to turn your heels when he orders again, “Y/N, I need to talk to you. You two leave.” You catch Sunmi rolling her eyes at you.

Your heart reacts faster than your mind. It starts to beat menacingly in an instant and you don't know how to act normal. You can’t really wrap your head around the fact that you are getting a piece of time to spend alone with the man of your dreams, your guilty pleasure, your forbidden desire, Kim Namjoon. You are so lost in your head that you didn’t even notice that Namjoon has been ogling your exposed legs. However, he soon composes himself and clears his voice to claim your attention.  

“Y/N… I didn’t expect that from you.” His voice is mixed with disappointment and anger, maybe? 

First of all, this is the first time in two semesters’ time, he has called you by your first name only, no suffix or prefix to burden the weight. Secondly, you don’t know why but, him being angry with you sends tingles down your spine. It definitely should not be like this. Had it been any other time, you would have probably sulked or cried your eyes out because you disappointed your mentors but…. This time it’s different. This time it's Namjoon. 

You don’t say anything in your defense. You know Namjoon understood that you did the entire project alone the very moment he read it, when it was supposed to be a “group” project. You are no better than your partners. You were on your way to give them free points for your own selfish needs. So, you hang your head low, avoiding his eyes. 

He marches towards where you are standing and comes to stand right in front of you. 

You curse at the proximity he has chosen to tease you with. 

“sorry, professor” you apologize with your small voice. 

“I think you are intelligent enough to know that your apology will not be enough, Y/N” he breathes out. The anger and disappointment in his voice are now gone, now those are replaced by something akin to darkness. 

“Professor, I-” You are immediately interrupted as Namjoon puts his index finger below your chin and tilts your face up to make you meet his eyes. Another round of shivers run down your spine as you perceive his siren eyes and the looming mischief in them. 

“Don’t you think you deserve some punishment?” Namjoon takes a step towards you as you take a step back. 

“You have been acting like a bad girl lately-” another step.

“-bad girls deserve punishment and I knows how to treat brats like you.” your ass comes into contact with the first row of desks. With blown out pupils you stare at your professor and try to comprehend the meaning behind his words. He, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying the way you are already submitting yourself to him. 

“Profe–” he cuts you off again, 

“Shhh– turn around” he orders and you comply without sparing a second thought. Your morals and rationality have feld through the open window long ago. 

You turn around and stand back-facing him. He places one of his giant hands on your shoulder and lowers your upper body down enough to perk your ass up. Your heart thumps as if it would burst out of your chest any given moment. Anticipation of what might happen in the very next moment, makes you leak. For a moment you think that you are dreaming. There is no way your daydreams are taking the shape of reality, you ain’t that lucky. But the next moment, you are proved wrong, when you feel Namjoon’s rough hands brushing right below your skirt’s hem. He bunches your skirt up and reveals the supple flesh of your perked ass. One of his palms creases down your butt through the thin material of your panty. He hooks two of his fingers on the hem of your underwear and pulls that down in an instant. 

And before you could accept the fact that you are now butt-naked in front of your hot professor, thinking of whom you hit your high every other night, a tight slap lands on your right ass. You yelp, eyes start stinging with tears right away. 

“For working on the entire project alone.” Namjoon groans.  

“Fuck” you curse out loud. 

Another slap lands at the same spot. “For concentrating more on my arms and thighs than the white board.” You gasp for air. 

Another slap. “For wearing these short skirts and driving me crazy.” 

Fuck, did you really drive him crazy? 

The last slap lands on the same spot. “For making me do something so forbidden.” 

You are drooling, both by mouth and cunt, by the end of the spanking session. Namjoon massages the fat of your ass as his other hand travels towards your cunt. He drags his slender fingers through your slit once and then parts your folds to gain access to your clit. You start to breathe heavily but stay still and let him do whatever he pleases. 

“Tell me to stop before I do something wrong, Y/N” his thick voice causes you to leak more. 

“No. don’t stop. I- I have wanted you, professor, for a long time now.” 

“You nasty little slut, do you think it’s okay to fancy your professor like this?” Namjoon says through his gritted teeth. All the while, his fingers probe into your cunt bringing a delicious friction and stretch with them.

“Fuck! So tight!” Namjoon exclaims. The more he discovers your tightness, the more his nails dig into your ass. 

You moan some incoherent curses and those arouse Namjoon even more. 

“You like it, don’t you? You like being corrupted? By the professor you desire? Hmm? A model student like you but so nasty inside?” He says with his husky voice. 

“Yes, professor. For you, only for yo-ah fuck” Your head starts to spin when he scissors his digits and stretch your walls even more. 

“For me? Yeah? Then do you want my cock?” he presses his thumb on your clit. 

“Yes. please.” you choke out, and that’s the confirmation Namjoon needed. He removes his hands from your body once for unbuckling his belt and setting his cock free. Once the deed is done, he slaps his thick meat on your ass. And fuck, you never knew you had so much of juice left inside of you cause you are leaking again. 

“Spread your legs.” he orders and you comply. 

He enters you bit by bit. At first it's just the tip and then he is half inside and then he is balls deep into you. The stretch is dreamy, far better than what you imagined and you want it all. 

“Should I move now?” His considerate voice makes your heart flutter and that’s a territory you don’t want to cross. You nod and he slams his hip into you. 

You arch your back. Namjoon wraps his hand on your waist to keep you in place as he starts thrusting into you mercilessly. 

The desk starts shaking violently but he doesn’t stop, neither do you want him to. You don’t even care if anyone is hearing you two doing things you definitely should not. With a vice-like thrust he hits your g-spot and your cream his cock without any warning. 

“Fuckfuckfuck” namjoon curses as he struggles to keep the pace. You know he is close as well. He pulls out his cock and cums all over your ass. His cum drips down the globe of your ass down your thighs and the scene alone makes him wanna fuck you again. However, he is a man of control. 

He let the beast out once and that should be enough. He knows you are a forbidden fruit and he should not touch you ever again. But the question is, can he contain himself? Especially when you turn around and seal your soft, sweet lips into a tempting kiss while both of you are still naked enough to start fucking again? Especially when you are so willing to be ruined by him and the bad boy in him roars to life. 

✨✨✨✨

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 7129

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

12. Pôt de crème

Mary

That day really winds up feeling like the epitome of a terrible horrible, no good, very bad fucking day for Mary, and it starts early. Leaving the apartment for work after the massage cocktease from Hell is odd.

She’s left feeling happy to have helped, but also hurt, disappointed, and mad at herself, of all things. That was the perfect opportunity for her to make a move and finally force those two to tell her that they’re not interested! (Though a small and pitifully thirsty part of her brain still exists in the fantasy land where they’d take her up on it.) But she’d chickened out and kept it strictly platonic. Ugh. Lame.

She manages not to think about it for a while, as she gets into the rhythm of her day at the bakery. She still can’t shake the cloud of anxiety and irritability looming over her, though. The good old days of any lasting effects from Bucky’s drops are gone, and instead she’s left to slowly percolate a bad mood as she clocks in and figures out the best order to get her projects done for that day.

Dennis is the manager on schedule, which sucks because Mary’s never liked him, but he’s in the office for the most part, since he’s a stuck up do-nothing, and she's able to pretend that she’s alone. 

No matter though. She can’t focus on anything, feels overly emotional, and almost breaks out in tears when she drops a tray of cupcakes on the floor. She manages to hold it together as she cleans up the mess, and moves onto the next task. Her list for the day now feels miserably long, and she doesn’t even enjoy decorating the base-iced babycakes that are waiting for her from yesterday. She fucks up the writing on one of them and loses her shit over something that is not worth losing her shit over. That’s the stupid thing that finally pushes her to tears, and she tosses her piping bag angrily onto the counter, what the fucking herself and feeling like she’s going crazy. 

Like baseball, there’s no crying in kitchens: That’s what the walk-in’s for. So, she hides back by the dairy products until she’s able to pull herself together. She comes out shivering, not crying, and in a horrible mood. 

Buttercream is next, so she gets the sugar boiling and the egg whites whisking in the forty quart. She tries to talk herself up in her head as she goes through motions of streaming in the sugar and then scaling the butter she’ll add to it once it’s whipped cool. “You’re not bad at your job,” she mumbles to herself, trying to push the threat of tears away with positive thoughts. “You’re not.”

Jesus fuck, why is she feeling like this? Nothing that bad has even happened! So she dropped some fucking cupcakes, so what? It happens. She checks her phone to see if she’s about to get her period, but that’s not it. Her focus is shit, so of course she eventually goes back to thinking about Bucky and Steve. 

Today is Bucky’s day off. Mary thinks about him being in pain that morning and how his movements had been crippled by pain. … She thinks about his broad, muscled back under her hands, his warm skin, the moans of relief he’d given whenever she worked out a knot. Poor guy. Even though she hates to think of enduring it again, she has to admit to herself that she does care about Bucky, and she would endure it if he needed her help. Hell, if it’s something that’ll help him in the long run, she’ll have to do at least one or two more massage sessions to teach Steve the ropes so he can help his husband in her absence.

Bucky doesn’t want her to do it. She pouts about that, but scolds herself as soon as she realizes she’s doing so. Don’t be lame over guys who don’t want you. So Bucky and Steve just want to be gay together in peace, so what? Why is she losing her shit over the tiniest rejection like this?!

She ruminates on it while she’s at the stove stirring a massive batch of pôt de crème custard, and it occurs to her that the part she’s actually most upset about isn’t their platonic feelings for her: it’s her own lack of bravery and straightforwardness with Bucky and Steve, and how she’s become such a pathetic wallflower over the past few months. 

Maybe if she’d flat out asked about a romantic relationship from the beginning, she could’ve gotten the rejection out of the way and been putting herself out there to meet someone new by now. She might’ve met a Dom at one of the Center’s socials, or at least could’ve been swiping the apps and going on dates. Getting laid.

But instead suddenly she’s turned into a shy girl (obnoxious). She hasn’t been a virgin since college, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t sleeping with whoever she could get her hands on, back before Steve and Bucky 'adopted' her. She’d been so good at it back then, saying what she meant and going for what she wanted, dragging at least one new guy back to her place to fuck every other week. Why can’t she just do something now? 

Frowning, she decides that she will do something over it. The ideal would be to move back to her own place, but she can’t with the custody order in place and Dr. Linda on Bucky’s side. Gritting her teeth, she figures she’ll do the next best thing: she’ll start getting laid again. She’ll go out and meet people. She’ll go out straight after work each day. Unless he wants to physically tie her up and keep her prisoner in the apartment, Bucky can’t stop it. 

She’s just got to work up the nerve to break his rules like that. Nerve which, in her current mood, seems quite out of reach. She sighs and reaches up to grab the Grand Marnier off the shelf for the pôt de crème. All she feels like doing now is going back to the apartment and crawling into bed, to be honest. She wonders if this is what actual clinical depression feels like. Maybe. Maybe worse. Sarcastically, she thinks that a shot or three of alcohol would certainly help, and then she pauses with her hand on the bottle as she’s about to pour it into the custard. Oh. 

She’s not drinking anymore. 

Fuck. That’s it. She’s hardly ever had sex sober in her life. Barely ever even flirted without some liquid courage in her system. That’s what’s changed. She always used pick up guys in bars, or at other places where everybody had a drink in their hand. And at home at her apartment, whenever the creeping buildup of anxiety and irritability would get to be too much, a couple vodka sprites were what made her feel better. She pauses in her stirring. Thinking about it now is making her almost physically yearn for a stiff one. 

She looks down at the bottle in her hand, shame coloring her cheeks as soon as she has the thought. Even at her worst, Mary never drank on the job. She grimaces at herself and hurriedly sets the bottle back on the shelf before temptation can win out, then turns back to the stove.

“Fuck!” she hisses, scrambling to turn off the burner when she’s met with the sight of lumpy pôt de crème. She whisks it frantically to try and stop it, but it’s too far gone: The eggs in the custard have curdled. She throws her head back and groans. “God dammit!”

She makes a last ditch effort to save it by dumping the lumpy custard into a Cambro, tossing in a few ice cubes, and furiously burr-mixing it with the immersion blender, but it’s no use. She’s irrevocably ruined a massive batch of dessert (with the expensive liqueur already added in it, to boot) because she wasn’t paying attention. Growling, she dumps it all in the trash bin before Dennis can happen to walk by and see, then stomps back to the fridge to grab ingredients to rescale the recipe.

She lines up sheet trays of paper dessert cups on her workstation table for decanting … and takes one cup with her over to the stove while she stands there and cooks the second batch of pôt de crème.

It’s when she’s stirring and pouring that second measure of liqueur into the pot that she gives into impulse and pours a shot’s worth of the stuff into the extra paper baking cup—that she now realizes she brought over for this express purpose in the first place. She gives the empty kitchen a furtive glance, and tosses it back. “Ugh.” 

Orange flavored liqueur? Really Mary?

She hears the rebuke in Bucky’s voice in her head, which is annoying and drives her to repeat the action once she’s drank the first. She tosses back a second. Gross gross gross. She checks the label on the bottle: 40% ABV. Good. She puts the bottle back on the shelf, pissed about feeling so uncomfortable in her skin that she stubbornly refuses to feel guilty over her actions, and finishes cooking the custard to a smooth nappé this time. Perfect. 

She pours the custard over the white chocolate and lets it melt. She burr mixes it, strains it. Ready to go.

Later maybe she’ll feel bad about it, but as she grabs the sauce gun and begins the tedious process of dispensing the pôt de crème into the cups, that warm, pleasant feeling of a buzz starts to creep up on her, and she finds herself in a better mood before long. Things seem brighter, and she finally feels like she can breathe. She’s able to think about Bucky and Steve without feeling like a piece of dirt, and even laughs about the stupid massage episode. Two shots of liqueur on an empty stomach makes that seem like not such a big deal, and she simply decides that she won’t volunteer for massage duty anymore, because obviously it was a mistake. She’d liked helping Bucky to feel better when he was hurting, but not enough to make up for having to endure the very non-platonic swooping in her belly she’d gotten from having her hands all over his naked back. Fuck, is he ever hot. Both of them are. They’re bodies are just, guh. 

She doesn’t need that frustration in her life.

She’s got a moderate buzz by the time she finishes her next project, and she cheerfully bops onto her next task. 

It’s such a relief, not having that heavy feeling of anxiousness and general uncomfortability weighing down on her. Jeez, she hadn’t even realized how bad it had gotten. She forgot how much a few drinks helped. She gets giddy and chases that feeling, quickly sneaking another quick shot (this time of the rum they use on the rum buns, though, because it really was gross that she drank that liqueur straight—blecgh). What’s one more quick drink in between batches of cakes going in and out of the oven, after all?

… And then just once more, after she’s added the last chunk of the butter into the whipping forty quart. By the time she’s got everything set out to basic-build the next bunch of babycakes, she’s in a great mood. It’s almost as good as the subspace had been, back in the beginning with Bucky. She hums songs under her breath and moves around the kitchen assembling and icing the cute little five inch cakes that are her specialty.

It’s her pet project, something she’d suggested to Mr. Flaherty, the bakery’s owner. Not only are they friggin’ adorable, they’re easy to bang out a bunch of them all at once, small enough to cost pennies to make, and big enough and cute enough that people are willing to pay way more than the cakes are actually worth. Mary knows for a fact that they have the highest profit margin of any item in the bakery. She’s privately very proud that Mr. Flaherty had listened to her idea and decided it was something they would offer on the regular menu. Dennis had underplayed it—like the jealous killjoy he is. 

Mary celebrates her good mood with another teeny sip of booze and then spends extra effort on smooth-icing in all the best pastel colors, thinking that today is a great day and can only get better from here.

Wrongo bongo.

“What the heck!”

“Oh, shit,” Mary hisses, running into the back when she smells burning bread and hears her manager’s voice calling out. Sure enough, Dennis is there, oven mitts in hand, angrily sliding a tray of blackened croissants onto the speed rack, and going back to the oven to pull out another. There are six trays of ruined croissants, and Mary grimaces “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

Dennis ignores her until he’s finished pulling out all the wasted product, and when he’s done, he lays her out. “This isn’t fucking Panera Bread,” he tells her angrily. “We’re a mom and pop bakery. Profit margins are slimmer than slim!”

Mary cringes. “I know, I know, I’m sor—”

“How much money did you just cost us?” Dennis demands, hands on his hips. “Huh? Tell me. I want you to stand there and think about it and tell me how much.”

Mary stares for a second, then realizes that he’s dead serious. Humiliated, she licks her lips and does the math: 6 trays of 10 = 60 croissants, 60 x $4 per ganache-stuffed croissant, minus about $30 ingredients cost. It takes her longer than it normally would, since she’s been drinking, but when she’s worked it out she winces and looks down in shame. “I dunno … A little over two hundred, I guess.”

Dennis flails his hand holding the oven mitts. “We can’t afford to have you ruining hundreds of dollars of profit, Mary. Get it together.”

She frowns, indignant. “I was up front helping a customer,” she defends. 

“That’s what the oven timer is for.”

“I know that. I just forgot to—”

“You’re forgetting a lot of things lately.” He gestures angrily at the trays of blackened croissants. “I’ve tried to help you. I gave you time off to get your shit together when your boyfriend came in and told me about your mental condition.”

Mary grits her teeth. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Dom, dungeon master, whatever,” he says nastily. “I don’t know what you people get up to. But I’ve given you a lot of chances cause you’re apparently dealing with some shit. I can’t keep doing that forever if you keep costing this place money.”

Mary glares and steps up closer, getting in his face. “Maybe if you actually hired someone for front of house on Tuesdays, then I could actually focus back here!”

Dennis’ expression changes suddenly. He narrows his eyes at her and leans in closer. “What’s that?” he says, deathly quiet.

Mary huffs. “I said, you need to hire more—”

“You smell like alcohol.”

Everything comes to a stop as his words hit her like a bucket of ice water. Oh, fuck. She takes a step back, shaking her head. “What?” She scowls like that’s absurd, about to say something to deny it, but the words die on her lips when she sees the way Dennis is looking at her. He knows. Mary feels sick.

Dennis’ expression darkens further. “Are you drinking on the job, Mary?”

“No!” (what’s she supposed to do, tell the truth?)

“I don’t believe you.” He squares his jaw. “I’m calling Mr. Flaherty in.”

“What?!” 

“Two hundred dollars of wasted product? Drinking on the job?” He’s already walking over to the wall phone and picking it up. When he looks back in Mary’s direction, there’s a gleam in his eyes. Fucker never did like her. “I told him I thought you had a drinking problem, and now I have proof.”

“You don’t have shit!” Mary cries. She’s actually panicking though, as she watches him dial the number to call the bakery’s owner. 

“I have the security cameras,” he says, looking vindictively pleased. “We’ll check them. You’re gonna be out of a job.” 

Mary stands there and watches in horrified disbelief as Dennis calls Mr. Flaherty and tells him that he needs to have a word with him in person that afternoon about “something serious.” He doesn’t give details, and when the call ends and he hangs up the phone, he shoots Mary a smug look. “I’ll work the register so that you can finish your shift back here and not make any more stupid mistakes.” 

Mary scoffs, panicked and angry and sick to her stomach with what’s happening. “No way! Forget it!” She hurries to untie her apron and yank it off. “I’m not gonna stick around here for you to lie and get me fired. I quit!” She tosses the apron to the floor and stalks back to grab her purse from the office, too panicked to think straight. She cannot stay there and see poor old Mr. Flaherty watch video evidence of her drinking on the job. He’s always been so nice to her, and now she’s betrayed him and fucked everything up. She’s just ruined the only job she’s ever liked. 

Dennis is getting less and less angry and more gleeful about it. “Bye bye, Hot-Mess Mary,” he sneers. “Don’t bother coming back. We’ll mail you your last paycheck. Have a nice life.”

“Fuck you, Dennis!” she yells, though her voice comes out choked with emotion. She shoulders her purse and whirls around before there’s any chance of him seeing her tearing up. She hurries for the back door that leads out to the alleyway. It's heavy and metal, and she shoulders it open with a grunt, stepping out. “Jealous prick,” she says, only to hear him laugh meanly and call out from inside,

“Jealous? Of you? An alcoholic pervert?”

The heavy back door slams shut before she can answer, and there’s no handle on the outside. It takes approximately two point five seconds for her to burst out crying.

Steve

“Fuck, Honey, ugh.”

Steve digs his fingers into the meat of Bucky’s ass and shuffles closer on his knees. On the couch (whose cushions have since been put back into place), Bucky parts his legs even farther and Steve takes him in deeper. His other hand keeps nudging the toy that’s buried in his husband’s ass—the glass p-spot toy, because unlike Steve, Bucky loves firmness but hates vibrations up there. Steve’s been gently fucking him with it, nudging it against his prostate again and again, having found the perfect angle. Every grunt and moan that he gets out of Bucky has his own cock throbbing in his underwear, but he isn’t touching himself, is devoting every ounce of his attention to resolving the “problem” that Mary’s massage left Bucky with. 

“You know,” Bucky says, voice a little breathy as he speaks between groans. “I’m never gonna—nnh. Never gonna look at this couch again without thinking of her oily hands sliding all over my back."

Steve hums in agreement, the sound reverberating around Bucky’s cock and pulling another hiss from him. Steve pops off to glance upwards. “Me too,” he says, and they share a look of heated yearning, before he shakes it off and sinks his mouth back down on Bucky’s throbbing length.

He’s been dragging it out, having fun with it. But now it’s gotten sloppy and wet, and Steve’s jaw aches, and he really wants to make Bucky come so he can finally get a hand around himself. He hums around Bucky’s cock once more while he still can, then takes him all the way to the hilt, nose pressing into his pubes and throat spasming around the head.

“Oh! shit …” Bucky’s fingers dig sharply into Steve's scalp. His hips stutter up of their own accord, making Steve choke a little, but he soldiers on. Bucky makes a helpless little sound that is very close to a whimper, and which has Steve’s belly pulling tight with arousal. “Close, Baby. So close, fuck …”

Steve purposefully chokes himself, letting it hit the back of his throat again and again, swallowing compulsively. It gets him what he wants, which is for this blowjob to be over.

Above him, Bucky slumps further on the cushions and groans long and low, the tortured moan letting Steve know that he’s cresting that edge. He pulls back to suck hard on the head, abandoning the toy to the clenching of Bucky's ass so he can stroke him through it. He hums happily when he feels the pulse of Bucky’s cock on his tongue, the hot spurts of cum, the clenching of thighs muscle beneath his hands. Fuck, it’s sexy. 

Having been with the man for so long, Steve knows exactly when to ease off. He gentles his touch and stops sucking. He waits with Bucky’s softening cock in his mouth, not pulling off until the hands that were gripping him desperately a moment ago smooth gently through his hair in gratitude. Steve pulls off, keeps his mouth closed, doesn’t swallow. Bucky’s flushed and wet cock falls onto his belly, gorgeously swollen and spent. Steve’s staring at it covetously when Bucky gives a long, shaky exhale from above, tapering off in a satisfied groan. “Stevie,” he sighs happily. “Mmhh. Fuck. C’mere.” 

He pulls Steve up onto the couch, not satisfied until he’s got him in his lap. Steve straddles him and smiles with his mouth still closed. “Good boy,” Bucky whispers, reaching up to gently cup the front of his neck. His eyes are heavy lidded but still heated as he strokes his thumb over Steve’s windpipe. He loves to watch Steve swallow his cum, and that’s why Steve hasn’t yet, is waiting for his signal. He’s very good at making a show of it: dragging it out, eye contact, showing the load on his tongue if Bucky wants, swallowing slowly and obviously; really turning it into an act of obedience for his husband.

He’s surprised when Bucky doesn’t tell him to swallow. “Hold it,” he says instead, confusing Steve. Bucky grins devilishly and reaches down between their bodies. He returns with the glass toy in hand and holds it up. “Get it wet," he purrs.

And Steve’s entire body goes stiff as he re-remembers that he’s married to the filthiest man on the fucking planet.

Steve must be filthy too, though, because a massive wave of arousal sweeps through him as Bucky holds up the toy with a dirty smirk and commands him to wet it up—with his own cum. Steve almost feels lightheaded from how all the blood rushes to his cock and away from his brain. He groans through his mouthful of cum, and Bucky’s lips curl. “You heard me. Do it.”

He looks down and aims, letting his mouthful of cum slide out onto the tip of the glass toy that was buried in Bucky’s ass not ten seconds ago. It’s obscene, filthy, and that only makes his belly swirl that much harder as Bucky uses his flesh fingertips to spread the cum around lazily, coating the clear glass with his own sticky cum. “Good,” he praises, still smirking at Steve through half lidded eyes. “Now, put it in.” 

Steve groans and takes the toy from him. They haven’t done prep, but it’s a small, slim toy, and he knows it’ll slide in easily with the help of his husband’s own jizz slicking the way. Jesus Christ. He starts to move, intending to take his underwear off, but Bucky stops him with an amused shake of the head.

“Uh uh. Just pull ‘em aside and put it in. Keep your briefs on.”

“Fuck.” He listens, reaching back to pull his underwear to the side and press the head of the toy to his rim. He works it inside, eyelids fluttering when it pops past the muscle and glides in smoothly. “Oh,” he sighs, letting his underwear snap back and shifting his hips to feel the stretch against his rim, the heavy curve of it settling into place against his prostate. “Fuck.” He starts rocking his hips in tiny motions to work it inside him, barely-there sounds of pleasure escaping him each time it does. “Ooh, Buck,” he breathes. He doesn’t realize his eyes have closed until Bucky startles him with a kiss, growling and tugging him in close by the back of the neck. “Mmph!”

Their lips clash in a harsh, demanding kiss, Bucky taking possession of it and gripping the back of his neck hard to keep him still. Steve pants and whines and takes it, hips juddering forward to grind his aching dick against Bucky’s stomach. Each dominating swipe of Bucky’s tongue into his mouth makes him ache for more. “Buck,” he pants, right against Bucky's lips, where he's shamelessly kissing his messy mouth. “Baby, oh, please?”

“Yeah?” His hand cups Steve from over his underwear, squeezing the line of his erection. “You’re so fucking amazing, you know that?” he husks, dipping under the waistband to curl his fingers around him. “Make me feel so good, fuck, I love you.”

Steve moans and rests his forehead on Bucky's naked shoulder, looking down to watch. He whines when he sees that it’s the metal hand—which he already knew by feel, but the sight of it is a whole other level of hot. Steve thinks of it like a knife kink, or a gun kink: seeing something so steely and dangerous that close to him, wrapped around and working him, giving him pleasure. The sight of all that black and gold metal on his cock makes his belly clamp down hard in need. “Oh fuck, ” he breathes. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah, Sweetheart.” Bucky kisses his ear and breathes hotly against him as he pumps and twists his hand, going tight just the way Steve likes. It’s messy from the precum that Steve’s dick keeps blurting out, and he whimpers at the soft, wet sounds it begins making. “I know,” Bucky whispers. “You get so worked up. I love that. Big fat cock n’ balls, but you wet up for me just like a girl, dontcha' Sweetheart? Bet you started right down there on your knees, too. Hard and leaking just from sucking me off, making a mess in your panties.” Steve groans in embarrassment and Bucky snickers. “Aw, don’t try to deny it. I saw that boner when you crawled on up here. Saw the wet spot on those tighty-whities, too.” Playfully, he snaps the elastic band of Steve’s underwear against his hip. “You get off on it. Pretty little cocksucker.”

Steve humps into his fist, which between how slick it is and how tightly Bucky’s gripping him, feels fucking amazing. “Nnuhh,” he moans, “I get off on you. You were so—fuck, mmph—so hard when she left. I f-felt bad for you.”

Bucky growls and strokes faster. “Don’t be patronizing, baby. I saw the state she left you in. At least I had the excuse of getting rubbed down.” He snickers lowly and presses another kiss to Steve's ear. “She wasn’t even touching you.”

“Fuck,” Steve says tightly, as he recalls the image of Mary sitting on the bed with Bucky, rubbing his naked back with her oiled hands—Her tiny oiled hands, that would look so good on their cocks. Fuck, he’s going to come embarrassingly fast. He pants, trying to get words out. “I—nuhh, oh. I wanted to—mmm …”

Bucky bites his earlobe. “Wanted to what? Tell me.”

“Wanted to watch her give you a happy ending,” he grunts. “Tell you to turn over n’ watch her jerk you off.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks, voice dark and interested. “Mm. You miss women.” Steve whines and nods in lieu of an answer. “Well maybe we’ll get a third sometime. A special treat. Only this time we'll get a girl, take turns fucking her. Maybe I’ll even have her fuck you with a strap-on.” Steve moans and kisses him dirtily, and Bucky reciprocates, hand leaving Steve’s cock so he can hold his jaw with both hands. 

Steve whimpers and his hips keep moving, chasing the friction that isn’t there anymore. “Buck,” he breaks off from the kiss to beg. “Please. Please. I need to cum.”

Bucky smiles and takes pity on him, but he switches up his hands, using the flesh one on Steve’s cock so that he can squeeze even more, really wringing up hard and thumbing under the head on every stroke. Steve sobs and sits back, bracing on Bucky’s shoulders and watching himself fuck into clench of his fist. “Yeah,” he moans. “Oh, God. Fuck yeah, just like that.”

“How’s that toy feel?” Bucky reaches his other hand underneath and taps against the glass toy’s base a few times— ‘tap, tap, tap,’ —humming in satisfaction when Steve cries out and ruts desperately into his fist. “Ooh,” he goads. “It feels that good, huh?” Tap, tap, tap. “It that gonna make you cum?”

“Nnnh.” Steve nods tightly, hips working hard. “Yeah, oh. Yeah. M’gonna. Ohgn…”” 

His balls draw up tight and his cock jerks when Bucky takes hold of the toy’s base and starts slowly pulling it out. That feeling against his rim is what does it, pushing him over the edge and making the pleasure coalesce and snap.

He cries out sharply as he shoots, his body straining and hips pulsing, ribbons of white cum striping over Bucky’s naked stomach, one after another.

“Fuck, Honey. So beautiful. Fuck that’s a lot. Fuck. Lookit’ you, big boy.”

His cooing praise drags it out longer, and by the time Steve’s dick is spent and softening again, he’s collapsed forward against Bucky, mess of cum between them be damned. He rests his head on his shoulder and hugs him while he recovers. “Fuck,”  pants, closing his eyes and enjoying the sheer relief of it all. “That was good. I needed that.”

Bucky hums and rubs his back. “Me too.”

When they finally peel themselves off each other, they’re faced with two wet, spent dicks, and the mess of cum that did not magically disappear just because Steve wanted it to. He sighs and climbs off the couch.

“Shower,” Bucky decides, and goes into the bathroom with Steve following behind. He starts the water running and shucks his joggers that he'd only just pulled back up. “Feel like we were just doin’ this,” he complains.

“That’s cause we were.” Steve pads over and stands against him, leaning in, chest to chest.

Bucky leans against the wall and wraps his arms around Steve’s lower back while they wait for the water to warm up. “Do you really want a threesome?” he asks. “Like we used to do?" 

Steve sighs and presses his forehead into Bucky’s chest. His first inclination is to say yes. They used to sleep with men, have threesomes a few times a year, for fun. They’d only stopped because they’d mutually fallen into contentment with married life. But Steve realizes it’s the way Bucky’s framed it: does he want to have threesomes again. With a girl. And the answer is no. Steve doesn’t want to have 'a threesome' anymore, with 'a girl', or 'a guy'. He doesn’t want anything casual. He says as much, and groans into Bucky’s skin. “I just want her,” he says. “I want it to be serious, and I want it with her.”

Bucky strokes his back, not saying anything for a long minute. “Yeah,” he eventually agrees. “Me too.” 

Steve makes a mournful sound in his throat. “Can’t we try? Maybe ask her out on a date? She might come around if she doesn’t feel like we’re just trying to jump her bones straight away, y’know? We’ve never really had that time with her. It went straight from ‘how do you do’ to moving her in here with us.” Bucky’s chest rises and falls with a deep inhale, and his hands have stopped moving on Steve’s back, which is how Steve knows he's really thinking about it. “Buck?” he tries. “C’mon. Let’s just give it a shot. Linda said she needs sex anyways, and I know you don’t like the idea of her with another man.”

Against him, bucky growls grumpily.

“Just one more try,” Steve pleads. “Let’s just tell her upfront we have feelings for her and that we’d like to court her.”

Bucky snorts. "'Court’?”

Steve whaps him and pulls his head back. “You know what I mean. Nice stuff. Take her out, buy her flowers.” 

“I know what you mean.”

They stare in each other's eyes as Steve reaches over to feel the shower water. It's warm. “It’ll be her choice," he says. "We won’t be bossy.”

“Kind of hard not to be bossy when she thrives on that.”

Steve gives him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “Yeah I know what you mean.” He pulls the curtain and goes to step into the shower, but Steve stops him from behind with a hand on his arm—his left one. “And this,” he says, looking at him with authority. “Let me take this off. And you keep it it off around the house like you used to do.” He watches the brief reluctance that plays out on Bucky’s face, but is relieved when his husband doesn’t turn it into a fight. “Thank you, babe,” he says, taking the arm off and setting it out on their bed before returning to the bathroom. Bucky’s in the shower, so he steps in and stands with him under the spray. He wraps his arms around Bucky from behind, letting his left hand drag up over his stomach and chest, up to the anchor site where it meets his pec. “You can be a good Dom without it, you know,” he murmurs. 

“... I know. It was silly.”

He kisses Bucky’s shoulder. “Not silly. I love you.” In his arms, Bucky’s body bleeds all its tension and he lets a little bit of his weight come back through Steve, who kisses his neck again. “Tonight?” he asks, knowing that Bucky will know what he means. 

Bucky nods. “Tonight.”

Bucky

“A bar?!”

"Yeah. Leave me alone."

Bucky stares helplessly as Mary kicks off her shoes and walks (stumbles, is more like it) through the apartment and back towards her bedroom. The conversation they've just had was short and completely non-productive, other than that it's got Bucky feeling like he's on the verge of blowing up. “Mare, stop! Come back here.”

She throws him the finger over her shoulder and pushes into her bedroom, shutting the door harshly behind her. Bucky growls and starts for the hallway, but Steve stops him with a hand to his shoulder, pulling him back. “Hang on, Babe.”

“She’s drunk!” Bucky hisses, turning furious eyes to Steve. “Been missing for hours and now this?! How did she even get it?”

“I know, I know.”

Bucky snarls, mad at Steve for being so fucking calm. “Did you give her her ID back?!”

“No! Don’t be stupid, babe.”

His eyes cut over, sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve looks like he’s trying not to roll his eyes. “She’s thirty Hon. I’m sure there are plenty of bartenders who’d serve her without checking.”

“Well that’s just, just …” Bucky sputters, struggling to find the words. “There have to be consequences!” He starts for the hall again but Steve grabs him and pulls him back and into a restraining hug. Bucky kind of wants to hit him. “Steve!”

“Shh,” Steve says. “Sh sh, just hang on a second. Take a deep breath.” He holds him tightly, rubbing his back and nosing at his neck, and Bucky realizes that Steve is employing some of the things he’s learned at the CDP, trying to calm him down.

He blinks, noticing how hot his face feels, how fast his pulse is thrumming underneath his skin. He exhales shakily, feeling bad. “Fuck. I'm ..."

"Yeah."

"Sorry.” 

“S’okay,” Steve whispers. “Maybe today’s not the best day, after all.”

Bucky’s eyes flick over in the direction of the kitchen table. “Better get rid of those, then,” he grunts, referring to the flowers Steve had picked up at the bodega for Mary.

“I will. And we’ll figure this out, find out what happened, and talk to her another day, okay? We'll get new flowers.” 

“No, not okay,” Bucky insists, his anxiety ratcheting up again as he thinks of the state Mary just came home in. “We need to deal with her.” 

Steve pulls back and meets his eyes, and Bucky feels like an asshole all over again. “What do you need?” Steve asks quietly.

Bucky grits his teeth. To spank the ever loving shit outta that girl, he thinks but doesn’t say. He knows better than that, even on the verge of an episode, he can tell that he’s not being logical. He closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths, pulls away from Steve because he’s embarrassed. “Nothin’.”

“Hey, it’s okay to need—”

“It’s not,” Bucky snaps, walking over to the couch and dumping himself onto it. He feels kind of sick—likely his blood pressure making him nauseous. “How am I supposed to be a good Dom for her when I can’t even keep myself in check? Christ.” He shoves his face into his hand. “I’m supposed to be better than this.”

Steve takes a minute, and when he approaches Bucky it’s with a gentle, careful expression that Bucky hates. “Babe, you know that makes no sense, right?” Bucky just grunts and Steve says, “That's like a diabetic saying they should have better willpower to control their insulin levels.”

Bucky glares at him for the trite comparison, wants to snap at his husband to stop quoting CDP literature at him. But that’d be nasty, and he bites his tongue. “No,” he grunts.

“You got told by Linda that you’re not giving her enough, not doing enough to meet her needs, and it’s been days since you really went up. You think I can't see that her drops aren't doing it for you now? You're too in tune with her. You both need more. And I should’ve seen this coming.” Steve sinks down to the carpet in front of him and kneels there reaching to rub his palms over the tops of Bucky’s thighs.

Bucky scowls at the gesture. “That’s not your job,” he says. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“I’m your husband,” Steve says, almost authoritatively, even though he’s keeping his voice soft and calm like the Center professionals taught him. “It’s my job to take care of you, always.” He rubs Bucky’s tense muscles from over his jeans. “Babe, c’mon. Let me help you.”

Bucky closes his eyes and counts to twenty. When he opens them again, Steve’s still there, waiting. Bucky reaches out and cups his face.

Steve presses into it. “Sir,” he whispers, eyes lowered.

Bucky feels so guilty at that, even as he can feel his blood pressure lowering from the small display of subservience. “I love you,” he says.

Steve smiles softly and squeezes his hands over Bucky’s knees. “I know.”

Bucky sighs. He releases Steve and slumps back into the couch cushions, feeling like the biggest burden. “I should call and book someone,” he says. Steve’s not a submissive and he shouldn’t have to play that role just to fulfill Bucky’s medical needs. Linda’s helped him come to terms with that over the years. Steve, the self-sacrificing punk, would do it anyway, but Bucky knows when he needs to ask for outside help. “Nathan can usually take me last minute.” Steve nods and stands up, brings Bucky his cellphone to make the call. He sits on the couch with him and pulls Bucky to lie with his head in his lap as he calls the Center and makes an appointment. “Okay,” he says when he’s done, tossing the phone aside. “Six-thirty. He’s coming in after hours just for little old me.”

“Good.”

Bucky’s eyes cut sideways towards the bedroom hallway. Their plans for the night are ruined, and if he didn’t have himself to deal with right now, he’d be hard pressed to keep himself from going in Mary’s room, trying to scold her. “What about her?” he asks glumly.

Steve snorts. “Little miss drunk? She’s probably passed out. Don’t worry about it. Besides,” he runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair.  “Can’t reason with someone when they’re like that. Discussion, punishment, scening? That’ll all have to wait until tomorrow, at least.”

Bucky makes a face and tries not to let his dominance start spiraling out of control again. “She’s going to AA.” Steve hums, and when Bucky looks up and catches his expression, Steve looks like he’s worrying for his safety. “Tomorrow,” he insists, obstinate. “I’ll take the day from work if I have to. Drag her there myself.”

“Maybe no dragging."

"Steve,"

"Linda first,” Steve suggests gently. “That’s a better first step, hm?” Bucky grunts, grumpy about it but knowing Steve’s right. He nods, and Steve runs kind hands through his hair. “Okay, good. That’s settled. Don’t have to think about it any more tonight.” He bends down and pecks a quick kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “So, six-thirty?”

“Mmhm.”

“An hour. … You want to help me get dinner started before you go?”

Bucky nods, turning and pressing his face into Steve’s lower belly, rubbing his cheek against his soft tee shirt and warm body. “Love you,” he mumbles, feeling sheepish from his outburst before. He knows it’s not his fault, but he still feels inordinately grateful to have Steve supporting him. “You ever get tired of all this drama?”

“Shuddup,” Steve chuckles.

“Mm. You should leave me for a normie." He’s got his eyes closed against Steve’s stomach, but feels the reproachful pinch on his neck. “Ow.”

“If I’d wanted a normie, I’d have married a normie,” Steve scolds. He pets over where he pinched. “And apparently I’m a glutton for punishment, cause I’ve got my sights set on another one’a you jerks. This is just a setback. We’ll let her sober up, you’ll go see the Pro, and then when everybody’s in the right frame of mind, we’ll deal with it. Now come on.” He pats Bucky on the back. “Mary's not the only one who can navigate a kitchen. I’ve got a recipe for chicken piccata we can try.”

Bucky sighs. He’s so fucking in love with Steve, and he’s never got any good way to say it. There's nothing. Wedding vows barely scratched the surface. “Okay,” he says, because what else is there to do but agree? Like most times, Bucky knows his more level-headed husband is right about this.

They get up and go into the kitchen to start pulling the ingredients for chicken piccata, and Bucky is able to keep his mouth shut for a full five minutes before his anxiety ratchets back up and he returns to haranguing Steve about confronting Mary—possibly later that night.

*Next chapter starts out IMMEDIATELY with the big confrontation and beginning of their romantic and sexual relationship, so I promise y'all won't have to wait much longer!

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[nguyenfinity]

Long post incoming 'cause I really enjoyed making this but timeline project!! Parameters were to show a timeline using pop culture references so I did the life of a neutron star with Madoka Magica (specifically Homura's arc during the main series)!!

For some meta/symbolic/design purposes I inlaid it in a clock :]

This is a 16-inch clock btw, the design itself is like 14 inches-- Stages Nebula: Inception of a star; the gravitational collapse of dust clouds forms its base. Akemi-san's been in the hospital for some time due to a heart condition. She hasn't been to school in quite a while, so I'm sure she'll run into a lot of difficulties. Make sure you all help her out, okay?

Protostar: The protostar spinds rapidly, causing further collapse of the nebula. The star keeps spinning, trying to reach equilibrium between its internal forces and gravity. I-I'm A-Akemi H-Homura... I, uh... I-It's nice to meet all of you. T-Tauri: Energy comes from gravitational forces since the temperature is too low for nuclear fusion. The star enters the main part of its life when it can finally start nuclear fusion and achieves equilibrium. Hey, don't be so nervous. We're classmates, after all. Main Sequence: 90% of the star's life; fusion continuously occurs until hydrogen is depleted, initiating the death of the star. Homura-chan, I'm really glad we became friends. Red Supergiant: The star swells up to a massive size; nuclear fusion can still occur until the star forms an iron core. We can do this together. We'll beat the Walpurgisnacht, just the two of us.

Supernova: As soon as an iron core forms, the star instantly collapses in on itself from the sheer force of gravity. THIS time, instead of her protecting me, I want to become strong enough to protect her!

Research/more design notes below the cut

There were so many directions to take (as you can see, like lifespan of a star would also be very viable for Rinne) but pmmm is so near and dear to my heart that it would've felt criminal not to do it and especially for like. A golden idea, like I think I hit conceptual gold--

It was so hard picking a singular route 'cause there's so many ways a star's life plays out and so many fitting storylines (Godoka for a neutron star, Akumura for black hole, magical girls in general etc) but I also had to take the physical presentation into account 'cause we were allowed to do that however, and Homura's main story arc fit really well because of the time loop and how clocks are. Yeah (and also the symbolic meaning of it being a clock)

There's more symbolism in the specific route I chose being a neutron star because those are the densest object ever, like how Homura repeating that month over and over again kept converging fate onto Madoka worse and worse--

i literally had a presentation with this and I couldn't think of what to say and if i recall anything i'll add it in the replies but MAN this project was so so fun (not the illustration part. i hit major artblock when trying to figure out how to draw it.)

[nenelonomh]

organization 101

organization is about how we gather stimuli in our environment to complete tasks quickly and more effectively. it's about arranging our surroundings, providing order, and structuring items and activities around us.

this topic can be applied in so many instances - including physical spaces, digital files, schedules, and mental clarity.

staying organized offers several benefits:

★ when you're organized, you waste less time searching for things or figuring out what to do next. this efficiency leads to increased productivity

★ clutter and chaos can contribute to stress. an organized environment promotes a sense of calm and control.

★ organization helps you allocate time effectively. you can prioritize tasks and allocate resources efficiently.

★ a clutter-free workspace (or living space) allows you to concentrate better on the task at hand.

★ organized spaces encourage healthier habits, such as regular exercise, balanced meals, and adequate rest.

but how can you stay organized?

★ start with one area of focus (e.g. closet, desk, documents, ...) and gradually expand. focusing on one area allows you to see tangible progress, and as you declutter or organize, you'll build momentum to tackle other spaces.

trying to organize everything at once can be overwhelming. by narrowing your focus, you can prevent feeling swamped. concentrating on a specific area also allows you to learn effective strategies,, which you can apply to other parts of your life!

★ keep a to-do list. you can use a planner or digital tools to track tasks - and prioritize and sort tasks by urgency. write things down promptly to avoid forgetting them.

by freeing your mind from trying to remember all of your tasks, this mental offloading allows you to focus on the present moment. you can also assign urgency and importance, ensuring you will tackle what matters most.

★ give everything a home. clutter happens when items lack designated spaces. organize your physical and digital spaces intentionally.

★ once organized, maintain order consistently by building habits and systems. regularly review and adjust your systems when needed.

maintaining daily habits can significantly contribute to staying organized.

digital files

personally, the biggest issue i have with organization is building (and maintaining) a good system for digital files. it is crucial for me to learn how to organize these well, however, as a digital creator.

here is the process:

★ create a folder structure,, and design a clear hierarchy of folders that reflect your workflow. organize files logically based on projects, departments, dates, or file types.

at the moment i sort my files as content home < links, content plan, instagram, pinterest, tumblr, youtube < scheduling, post ideas

however, sometimes i find myself with documents that don't fit any of these sections. my plan for the future is to reorganize this to be the most effective it can.

★ use descriptive file names,, and name files clearly and concisely. include relevant keywords to make searching easier

★ consider using tags to categorize files across multiple dimensions. tags enhance searchability and allow flexible organization.

this is something that i am looking to employ!

★ utilize cloud services like google drive or dropbox for easy access from anywhere.

i will forever be a notion girl,, even though it is not quite a cloud service, it allows me a similar experience.

★ make decluttering a routine. delete duplicate or unnecessary files.

★ pin essential folders to your sidebar for quick access.

physical decluttering

writing this, i was reminded of the (horrid) bedrotting trend, especially those videos where people would show their rooms with shit everywhere and mould growing on stuff. i'm aware that some people find it super hard to maintain organization or declutter - hoarding is a very real issue.

the benefits of staying organized were previously mentioned, but decluttering specifically has its own little set of positives. this includes reduced stress, improved focus, enhanced productivity, and more positive overall wellbeing.

here are some essential tips if you are struggling to get started:

choose a small area or category to begin decluttering. set a timer (15-30 minutes) and sort items in that area into 'keep', 'donate', 'trash', or 'unsure' piles.

you could also attempt a room-by-room approach, by tackling one room at a time. focus on completing each room fully before moving on to the next.

try to organize your belongings into categories (keep, donate, sell, discard) to make decisions easier.

remember - progress comes from consistent effort, and small steps lead to a clutter-free space.

further reading

i hope today's post was helpful!

as for further reading, check out these sites: ★ How to Declutter Your Home: 6 Best Room-by-Room Methods (thespruce.com) ★ First Steps to Decluttering - Understanding the Clutter - Being Minimalist ★ Productivity, Organization & Personal-Development | 101 Planners ★ Executive Functioning Skills 101: Organization | Life Skills Advocate ★ How to Be Organized - 10+ Habits - Organized 31 ★ How to Be More Organized & Productive | 10 Habits for Life Organization (youtube.com) ★ How to Be More Organized (verywellmind.com) ★ How to Organize Your Digital Files | Reviews by Wirecutter (nytimes.com) ★ Master How to Organize Digital File Management (riverfy.com)

❤️ nene

image source: pinterest